LIBRARY 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


Gl  FT    OF 


Class' 


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A 


SUMMBR 
OUTING 


By 


FRANCIS  ALLEN  HORTON 


A  PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 


Being  Some  Account  of  the  Experiences  of  the 

Rev.  Francis  A.  Horton  as  a  Delegate  to 

the  Pan-Presbyterian  Council. 


BY    THE 

REV.     FRANCIS     A.     HORTON 

Pastor  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church,  of  Oakland,  Gal. 


OAKLAND,  CAL: 

TRIBUNE  PUBLISHING  COMPANY,  413,  415  AND  417  EIGHTH  STREET. 
1889. 


"V 

Hi 


PREFACE. 


Friends,  who  may  dip  into  these  letters  here  and  there, 
or  who  may  read  them  page  by  page,  you  will  spare  them 
your  more  severe  tests  when  you  recall  the  fact  that  they  were 
written  on  the  wing,  and  that  since  our  return  the  cares  of  a  heavy 
church  have  stood  in  the  way  of  any  recast,  beyond  a  stray  word 
or  sentence  or  incident  to  make  our  thought  clear  or  to  correct 
errors  in  the  first  print.  We  had  no  idea  but  that  the  birth  and 
burial  of  each  letter  would  occur  in  the  same  issue  of  The  Tribune. 
Still  it  is  very  grateful  to  us  to  find  that  the  child  born  for  a  day 
is  desired  for  a  longer  life.  This  wish  could  not  well  have  been 
met  but  for  the  enterprise  of  the  proprietors  of  The  Tribune,  who 
kindly  undertake  it  at  their  own  expense,  solely  to  gratify  their  many 
friends  and  patrons  who  have  expressed  the  wish  both  to  them  and 
to  us. 

If  our  fireside  chat  may  yield  a  pleasant  hour  or  two  now  and 
then,  if  it  may  inspire  hard  working  men  to  take^pity  on  themselves 
before  friends  need  to  pity  their  poor  widows,  if  it  may  broaden 
any  one's  idea  of  living,  if  it  may  bring  any  back  home,  made  over 
in  brain  and  brawn,  set  back  five  or  ten  years  towards  youth  in  point 
of  health  and  vigor,  we  shall  be  very  happy,  and  in  the  hope  that 
some  such  issues  may  come  from  this  venture, 

I  remain,  sincerely, 

FRANCIS  A.  HORTON. 

Oakland,  January,  1889. 


1 58906 


A  PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 


LETTER  I. 
WYOMING,  en  route  East,  May  3d,  1888. 

Oakland  is  home  to  wife  and  me,  and  no  mistake.  "  'Tis  home 
where'er  the  heart  is,"  whether  among  glistening  peaks  or  on 
blistering  sands.  How  much  to  be  envied  are  they  whose  hearts 
are  set  upon  our  beautiful  city  on  the  bay  unequaled,  and  who  find 
therein  their  home.  The  many  tender  words  spoken  and  written  to 
us  in  the  past  few  days  as  well  as  previously,  the  hearty  send  off, 
blending  with  memories  of  five  years  of  hard  work  crowned  with 
a  fair  measure  of  success,  fill  our  minds  as  the  wheels  are  ever 
rolling  us  away,  away.  The  glories.of  nature  revealed  in  Oakland, 
the  beauties  of  the  town,  the  sentiments  of  loving  hearts,  all  unite 
in  one  presence  and  impression.  Fact  is,  wife  and  I  are  downright 
homesick  to-night  and  would  give  a  handsome  sum  if  the  round 
of  duty  and  recreation  were  traversed  and  we  were  this  near  to 
home  again.  After  all,  what  is  there  in  life  but  love  ?  Love  is  the 
constraining  power,  the  inspiring  genius.  Love  that  reaches  upward 
and  impels  to  pureness  and  nobility,  love  that  reaches  into  the  home 
and  directs  labors  and  sacrifices  for  others'  comfort,  love  that  goes 
out  to  all  and  purifies  society  for  the  moral  health  of  all. 

"  What  a  world  this  might  be 
If  men  were  true  and  kind." 

Now  that  the  harness  is  really  off,  reaction  sets  in.  Headache 
prevails,  accompanied  by  general  lassitude,  revealing  a  condition 
of  weariness  that  was  not  recognized  while  the  lash  and  command 
of  duty  urged  us  on.  Here  is  one  of  the  dangers  of  our  climate. 
There  are  no  days  that  freeze  out  the  worker,  none  that  burn  him 
out.  All  days  are  favorable  to  business,  and  the  year  runs  away 
with  no  excuse  for  any  sound  man  not  to  be  at  his  office,  counter, 
or  shop.  The  average  active  Californian  of  fifty  years  has  probably 
done  as  much  hard,  unintermitted  work  as  an  Eastern  man  of  the 
same  class  would  have  done  at  the  age  of  sixty.  We  have  more 
bald  headed  men  to  the  thousand  than  any  other  community, 
probably.  What  is  to  be  the  effect  of  all  this  on  posterity,  is  a  ques- 


6  A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 

tion  in  heredity.  Like  trees  like  men,  in  the  effect  of  climatic 
influence  upon  stamina.  We  produce  no  very  hard  woods.  The 
ailanthus,  eucalyptus,  soft  maple  and  soft  oak  are  our  product. 
The  hickory,  the  gnarled  white  oak,  do  not  abound.  Close  obser- 
vers find  that  we  are  not  raising  a  generation  of  hickory  men  and 
women.  The  cold  and  heat  of  Eastern  States,  the  rougher  con- 
ditions of  life,  are  developing  there  a  hardier  race  of  men  and 
women.  We  have  as  yet  many  of  those  who  have  been  compacted 
amid  the  conditions  named  and  anew  influx  is  constantly  pouring  in- 
to our  population.  For  this  reason  we  do  not  see  so  clearly  the  effect 
of  our  climate  upon  vigor  and  endurance.  But  in  these  unquestion- 
able facts  we  find  a  further  hint  of  the  need  of  frequent  rest  and 
change.  At  least  twice  a  year  a  hard  working  business  man  should 
sleep  and  eat  and  breathe  in  another  climate  for  as  many  days  or  as 
few  as  he  can  snatch  from  a  busy  life,  a  whole  week  at  least. 

Are  you  good  at  conundrums?  Well,  here  is  an  original  pro- 
duction. Why  is  this  bush  covered  desert  like  the  municipal  coun- 
cil of — well,  say  New  York,  for  instance,  as  well  as  for  safety  ?  Give 
it  up  ?  Well,  so  do  I.  Perhaps  there  is  no  resemblance.  But  as  I 
have  raised  your  expectations,  I  will  say  that  the  idea  came  into  my 
head  as  I  observed  what  a  retreat  it  is  for  bitter  sage  hens.  Bad  as 
that  is  for  a  conundrum,  it  is  still  better  than  a  pun  Joe  got  off  just 
now.  Joe  is  a  San  Francisco  drummer  in  the  section  opposite,  an 
agreeable  young  man  and  a  good  traveling  companion.  Wife 
named  one  of  the  two  horned  toads  that  she  added  to  her  stock  of 
pets  just  below  here  after  him  when  he  told  her  that  he  was  born 
with  horns  on,  but  his  mother  sandpapered  them  off.  Both  Joe  and 
the  toad  seem  well  pleased  with  the  arrangement.  Looking  out  at 
the  window  just  now,  he  (Joe,  not  the  toad),  saw  large  flocks  of 
sheep  feeding  on  the  almost  perpendicular  faces  of  the  hills,  hang- 
ing on  by  their  toes,  when  he  exclaimed,  "  What  a  country  for  hung 
mutton!" 

What  connection  subsists  between  piety  and  clothes?  The  query 
arises  as  I  look  out  of  my  window  and  study  an  ecclesiastic,  a 
bishop  from  Japan  on  his  way  out  to  England  to  attend  some  con- 
vention, possibly  the  great  Lambeth  Convocation.  He  wears  a 
soft,  black  felt  hat,  a  flowing  undercoat  wrapped  about  him,  and 
secured  at  the  waist  by  a  cord  twice  encircling  and  ending  in  large 


A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  7 

tassels,  cut  high  with  standing  collar,  an  outside  coat  of  same  cut 
secured  at  the  neck  by  a  single  button,  and  flowing  freely  on  the 
breeze,  trowsers  ending  in  the  tightest  of  leggings  with  buttons  down 
the  outside  and  secured  by  a  leather  strap  under  the  instep.  The 
whole  rig,  except  his  standing  collar,  is  of  the  most  somber  and 
lusterless  black.  Again  we  ask,  what  connection  is  there  between 
the  tailor's  shears  and  the  conversion  of  the  heathen?  What  degree 
of  impressiveness  in  preaching  the  laws  of  God  belong  to  one  suit 
of  clothes  rather  than  to  another?  How  much  supplementary  aid 
can  the  draper  and  tailor  furnish  to  the  theological  seminary  ?  Is 
there  any  sense  in  any  man's  making  an  unmitigated  guy  of  himself 
ostensibly  for  the  sake  of  Christ  ?  Jesus  did  not  so,  nor  did  any  of 
his  apostles.  Why  should  we  ?  Certain  proprieties  all  expect,  and 
sensible  men  bow  to  them,  but  ultraisms  excite  ridicule  and  deserve 
all  they  get.  Quite  the  opposite  is  the  case  of  those  who  think  that 
the  Master  is  dishonored  by  any  use  of  ornament  or  of  dress  beyond 
the  very  plainest.  A  flower  on  a  lady's  hat  or  a  ring  in  her  ear  or 
on  her  finger  is  evidence  to  such  minds  of  an  unmodified  state  of 
heart,  quite  deplorable  in  a  Christian.  I  have  as  little  sympathy 
with  this  notion  as  with  the  other.  Jesus  probably  dressed  like  any 
other  carpenter's  son,  ornamentation  included.  We  do  not  read 
that  he  instituted  any  dress  reform.  John  the  Baptist  was  out  of 
the  prevailing  fashion,  and  a  note  is  made  of  the  fact.  The  whole 
truth,  probably  is,  that  where  there  is  the  adorning  of  a  meek  and 
quiet  spirit  the  person  is  well  dressed  in  the  sight  of  God.  After 
this  their  sanctified  common  sense  must  rule. 

Some  of  the  meekest  spirits  in  the  world  have  dressed  beautifully, 
having  ample  means  to  do  so,  and  desiring  to  please  their  friends. 
It  makes  no  beautiful  woman  more  pious  to  dress  her  like  a  fright, 
nor  is  she  necessarily  yielding  to  temptation,  to  vanity,  when  she 
improves  her  talent  of  beauty  for  the  brightening  up  of  this  workaday 
world.  I  often  wonder  whether  this  proclamation  of  alliance 
between  religion  and  poverty,  between  religion  and  voluntary 
plainness  and  homeliness,  remanding  to  the  devil  so  much  that  is 
beautiful  and  helpful  and  cheerful,  so  many  of  the  good  things  of 
life  for  the  sake  of  some  spook  of  fear,  is  not  an  asceticism  that  is 
contrary  to  the  spirit  of  Christ,  and  chargeable  with  creating  a  per- 
verted notion  of  his  true  church  on  earth.  Pure  and  true  religion 
is  one  of  the  most  sensible  things  in  the  world.  It  is  loving  and 


8  A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 

serving  God  with  a  sincere  desire  to  please  him.  Did  God  wish 
this  earth  to  be  somber,  then  why  did  he  create  beautiful  colors 
and  beautiful  flowers  ?  Did  he  want  men  to  exclude  the  voice  of 
joy  and  gladness,  then  why  the  merry  song  of  bird;  why  the  joyful- 
ness  of  everything  purest  and  most  like  himself?  No,  no,  friends, 
let  us  have  done  with  all  this.  Make  the  earth  beautiful,  make  it 
gladsome.  Conscience  will  work  as  well  when  addressed  by  the 
power  of  a  beautiful  piety  as  when  by  one  bowed  down  like  a  bul- 
rush, and  weeping  like  the  ancient  prophet.  But  I  may  not  think 
as  all  do  about  this  any  more  than  about  other  matters,  but  I  do 
think  and  speak  as  I  think. 

Crossing  this  continent  is  like  visiting  Niagara.  It  grows  on  one 
at  each  visit.  More  stupendous  seems  the  undertaking  that  has 
made  California  what  she  is,  and  will  yet  make  her  one  of  the  fore- 
most States  in  the  Union.  I  am  very  well  content  that  they  who 
overcame  the  obstacles  and  conquered  mountain  and  desert  for 
future  thousands  shall  be  greatly  enriched.  The  smallest  conceiv- 
able fraction  of  the  wealth  that  they  have  made  possible  to  the 
masses  would  make  them  richer  still.  Yet  when  one  looks  at  the 
vastness  of  the  worjt  it  is  plainly  evident  that  not  man  nor  company 
built  it,  but  the  masses,  the  government,  between  whom  and  the 
constructors  there  should  be  a  fair  settlement  of  accounts.  But  do 
not  think  that  I  am  riding  on  a  free  pass  and  am  showing  gratitude 
by  these  writings.  Passes  are  issued  to  clergymen  as  well  as  to 
others,  and  to  their  wives,  to  my  certain  knowledge.  But  to  the 
great  mass  the  Interstate  Commerce  law  is  a  convenient  and  effectual 
barrier.  Yet  how  it  vanishes  when  politics  are  to  the  front!  Then 
a  hint  to  the  conductor  written  in  pencil  on  a  slip  of  brown  paper, 
as  I  noted  recently,  is  sufficient.  Nor  do  I  complain.  A  pass  is 
an  equivalent  for  services  rendered  or  bid  for.  It  always  raises  a 
question.  The  only  fair  thing  to  do  is  to  treat  all  alike,  and  if 
favors  are  to  be  shown  to  any  let  it  be  to  those  on  the  Pacific  coast 
who  are  building  up  the  trade  of  the  roads.  Generally,  however, 
they  are  sported  by  parties  outside  of  this  range,  indicating  the  cor- 
rupt side  of  railroad  influence  in  government  circles. 

But  I  have  rambled  on  far  enough  for  this  time.  Amid  sunshine, 
hail,  and  snow  we  are  now  dashing,  soon  to  revisit  old  scenes  and 
old  friends,  amid  whom  and  which  I  shall  not  forget  my  transconti- 
nental loved  ones  and  home.  FRANCIS  A.  HORTON. 


A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY. 
LETTER  II. 

DENVER,  MAY  yth,  1888. 

For  once  in  my  life  I  am  able  to  look  down  upon  all  my  good 
friends  in  Oakland.  It  is  not  my  nature  to  be  high  minded,  but  on 
the  contrary,  to  borrow  the  language  of  a  character  who  afforded  me 
a  fund  of  amusement  in  earlier  days,  "I  am  .a  very  humbly  man." 
But  sometimes  we  cannot  help  getting  up  in  the  world.  So  here  we 
are  in  Denver,  Col.,  more  than  a  mile  higher  up  in  the  air  than  the 
top  of  the  higher  steeple  of  my  church.  And  it  is  charming  up  here. 
The  air  is  soft  and  smooth  and  pure,  the  lungs  taking  in  great  quan- 
tities of  it  with  pleasure.  At  once  a  sound  lunged  person  realizes 
what  hope  of  continuance  is  here  for  the  person  of  weak  lungs.  Yet 
there  are  limits.  If  the  lung  tissue  is  unimpaired  all  is  well.  But 
if  disease  has  taken  hold  upon  it  this  climate  aggravates  the  case. 
But  in  many  instances  persons  v\ho  have  sufferred  from  hemorrhage 
merely,  have  never  had  a  return  of  the  trouble  after  coming  here  to 
live.  Yonder  are  the  high  peaks  of  the  Rockies,  eternally  snow 
capped,  acting  as  a  refrigerator,  sending  to-day  to  us.  a  cool  breath 
full  of  vigor.  Overhead  the  sun  shines  through  long  beautiful 
hours — in  one  word,  it  is  as  delightful  a  day  as  one  ever  finds  any- 
where. Of  course,  it  takes  more  than  one  day  to  make  a  season,  but 
judging  from  the  sample  we  enjoyed  I  do  not  wonder  at  the  remark 
of  Mr.  Tabor  to  me,  (Mr.  Tabor  who  built  the  Grand  Opera  House, 
and  who  has  in  other  ways  invested  vast  sums  of  money  in  the 
city  :)  "  We  have  as  fine  a  climate  for  twelve  months  in  the  year  as 
can  be  found  on  earth." 

Next  to  climate,  in  the  make  up  of  a  city,  comes  the  water  sup- 
ply, which  in  this  case  is  abundant  and  of  the  puiest  quality.  Ar- 
tesian wells  reach  water  at  sixteen  feet  below  the  surface.  As  the 
boring  proceeds  new  veins  are  struck,  yielding  at  times  mineral 
waters  of  high  value,  as,  for  instance,  at  the  Winsor  House,  where  a 
stream  of  water  flows  ceaselessly  from  a  nine  hundred  foot  well, 
which  waters  are  said  to  be  very  beneficial  in  all  cases  of  kidney 
troubles.  The  main  dependence,  of  course,  is  upon  the  city  water- 
works, which  secure  their  supply  in  other  ways.  The  water  rates  do 
not  differ  materially  from  those  of  the  Contra  Costa  Company. 
Charges,  however,  are  made  out  on  a  different  plan,  a  certain  monthly 


10  A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY. 

rental  being  assessed  for  household  purposes,  reaching  throughout 
the  twelve  months,  and  an  additional  charge  being  made  per  month 
for  irrigation  purposes  extending  throughout  the  season  of  irrigation. 
Drainage,  which  is  the  next  consideration,  is  here  arranged  for  by 
nature,  so  that  the  system  is  well  nigh  perfect.  The  fall  toward  the 
streams  in  every  direction  is  very  considerable.  In  the  item  of 
building  material,  nature  certainly  has  set  her  affection  upon  Denver. 
First,  are  the  hills  of  brick  clay  which  yield  large  supplies  of  good 
quality.  Just  now  the  prices  are  very  stiff,  good  quality  burnt  brick 
selling  at  $9  per  thousand,  pressed  brick  being  far  more  costly.  A 
new  residence  was  shown  me,  the  pressed  brick  in  which  cost  $32 
per  thousand.  Then  the  marble  yards  are  well  stocked  with  good 
quality.  Then  the  beautiful  white  and  red  sandstone  is  very 
abundant.  But  best  of  all  to  mv  mind  is  the  lava  stone.  It  has 
several  peculiarities.  It  is  a  light  weight  stone,  weighing  some 
twenty  pounds  less  to  the  cubic  foot  than  the  sandstone.  It  is  also 
soft  and  easily  wrought  into  shape  for  use.  It  has  the  quality, 
however,  of  hardening  with  age,  so  that  each  year  the  structure 
composed  of  it  grows  more  secure.  Then  it  has  those  beautiful 
tints  coming  from  injection  of  mineral  substances  while  in  molten 
state.  Some  parts  are  as  gray  as  the  white  sandstone,  some  as  pink 
as  the  red  sandstone,  with  many  intermediate  tints.  With  these 
facilities  at  hand  a  solid  city  is  the  outcome.  Curbstones  are  stones 
in  fact,  sidewalks  are  made  of  sawn  slaos  of  smooth  stone,  houses  are 
of  solid  material.  Combinations  most  pleasing  are  effected.  Thus 
we  see  brick  houses  trimmed  with  pressed  brick,  white  sandstone 
trimmed  with  red  sandstone,  and  vice  versa,  lava  in  combination 
with  red  sandstone,  and,  perhaps,  finished  about  the  entrances  with 
polished  granite.  The  charming  effect  of  all  this  multiplied  on 
every  side  can  be  easily  imagined. 

In  the  building  up  of  Denver  it  is  further  to  be  considered  that 
the  State  of  Colorado  is  in  the  mere  infancy  of  its  development.  Its 
mineral  resources  are  very  great.  Coal  in  abundance  is  found,  but 
as  yet  of  a  poor  quality,  none  having  been  found  that  will  coke. 
Silver,  gold,  copper,  iron,  Spiegel  iron  in  limited  quantity,  are  here. 
Dr.  Maynard  of  Cheyenne  told  me  that  he,  with  seven  others,  had 
laid  claim  under  the  Placer  law  of  the  State  to  a  vein  of  kaolin 
several  miles  in  length  and  some  fourteen  feet  in  breadth  and  depth, 
which  was  pure  decomposed  feldspar,  absolutely  destitue  of  iron  or 


^     OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY   , 
- 

A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY.""  11 

any  other  mineral  that  would  tint  the  pure  white  porcelain  that  could 
be  manufactured  from  it.  I  remarked  to  him  that  I  remembered 
being  told  at  Sevres,  in  France,  some  years  ago,  at  the  celebrated 
porcelain  works,  that  atmosphere  had  much  to  do  with  their  industry. 
The  idea  seemed  new  to  him,  and  at  his  request  I  shall  make  more 
particular  inquiry  on  this  point  during  the  next  few  months.  The 
vast  herding  interests  of  Colorado  are  gradually  taking  on  better 
shape.  The  tendency  now  is  toward  smaller  herds  and  more  care, 
with  less  hardship  and  loss  in  winter.  Blessed  be  pockets  which 
men  will  regard  even  when  the  lowing  of  starving  and  freezing  dumb 
creatures  fall  on  hardened  ears.  I  saw  at  the  foot  of  one  telegraph 
pole  by  the  wayside  the  dead  bodies  of  five  full  grown  cattle  lying 
where  they  fell.  As  all  the  interests  of  the  State  proceed  in  their 
rapid  developement,  Denver  will  feel  the  impulse  and  rise 
with  the  flood  tide.  This  is  all  the  more  certain  because 
eastward  there  is  no  city  of  importance  until  Kansas  City 
is  reached,  and  westward  nothing  to  compete  with  it  until  we 
reach  Salt  Lake  City.  Thus  with  natural  advantages,  with  un- 
limited resources,  and  with  geographical  position  everything 
is  in  favor  of  a  great,  strong,  and  beautiful  city.  It  all  depends 
upon  the  people,  and  what  they  intend  to  do  is  well  indicated  by 
what  they  have  done  and  are  doing.  The  business  atmosphere  is 
full  of  ozone.  The  city  is  less  than  30  years  old,  but  has  made  for 
itself  already  a  name.  Note  the  one  fact  concerning  the  vast  union 
depot,  which  is  now  too  small  and  is  about  to  be  enlarged,  as 
indicating  how  the  business  men  take  their  own  city  in  hand  and 
govern  matters  amicably,  as  though  they  had  something  to  say  about 
things.  This  fact  is  that  the  depot  and  grounds  belong  to  the  city, 
and  not  to  the  railroads,  the  right  to  lay  and  use  tracks  being  given 
by  the  city  to  the  roads.  Of  course  it  is  to  the  interest  of  the  city 
to  give  the  roads  all  the  facilities  they  need  for  the  transaction  of 
business.  It  is  a  mutual  affair,  but  the  position  of  the  city  is  one  of 
much  honor  and  safety  therein.  Heavy  smelting  works  roll  their 
dense  smoke  upwards,  and  the  roar  and  whiz  of  manufacture  are 
heard.  Business  blocks  of  vast  size  and  beauty  and  costliness  are 
going  up  to  add  to  the  numbers  of  such  already  built  and  occupied. 
When  a  city  without  a  boom  can  afford  to  pull  down  good  two  and 
three  story  structures  to  erect  far  better  ones,  there  is  some 
foundation  of  prosperity  under  it.  This  is  nature's  boom.  The 


12  A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 

Tabor  Opera  House  surpasses  in  beauty  and  extravagance  of  finish 
any  similar  structure  in  San  Francisco.  And  it  is  used.  The  seven 
performances  of  the  Booth-Barrett  combination  yielded  $29,000. 
The  new  Denver  Club  building  is  the  gem  of  the  city.  The  dry 
goods  house  of  Daniels  &  Fisher,  externally  and  internally,  would 
be  a  conspicuous  object  if  placed  on  Market  street.  It  is  more  like 
my  memory  of  Lord  &  Taylor's  of  New  York  tban  anything  seen 
since.  The  hotels  are  roomy  and  well  appointed. 

In  the  matter  of  churches  the  city  is  wonderfully  developed.  St. 
John's  Cathedral  is  specially  noticeable,  cruciform,  with  beautiful 
windows,  soft  fresco,  splendid  organ.  Trinity  Methodist,  far  larger, 
not  yet  completed,  the  organ  of  which  is  intended  to  be  the  largest 
in  America,  the  gift  of  one  man,  a  former  Californian,  Mr.  Blake. 
The  Presbyterian  churches  likewise  are  fine  structures,  and,  better 
than  all,  the  spacious  buildings  are  filled  on  each  Sabbath  at  both 
services. 

The  school  buildings  are  very  fine,  especially  the  two  High  school 
buildings,  which  are  large  enough  to  serve  as  capitols  for  a  young 
State.  The  county  buildings  also  are  on  the  same  scale.  I  walked 
over  the  foundations  of  the  new  State  Capitol,  from  which  it  is  easy 
to  see  what  is  the  thought  of  the  architect.  Private  residences  run 
up  high  into  the  thousands  of  dollars  of  cost  in  many  cases.  Over 
two  thousand  houses  were  built  last  year,  and  the  city  is  extending. 
The  Baptists  have  located  their  college  out  Colfax  avenue  as  far  as 
Mountclair,  and  the  Wolff  private  school  has  secured  a  location  near 
the  same  point.  A  cable  line  out  Colfax  is  in  the  near  future,  and 
prosperity  is  moving  along  that  entire  line.  New  cities  are  the 
marvel  of  America's  progress,  and  among  them  none  excites  more 
wonder  and  admiration  than  Denver.  F.  A.  HORTON. 


LETTER  III. 

ALBANY,  MAY,  nth.  1888. 

From  the  roof  of  the  great  hardware  house  of  Horton,  Gilmore, 
Me  Williams  &  Co.,  Lake  street,  as  far  as  the  eye  can  see  before  us 
lies  new  Chicago.  Without  doubt  the  fire  that  swept  over  this  vast 
area  was  one  of  the  fiercest  on  record.  When  wood  goes  up  in 


A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY.  13 

smoke  and  ashes  like  shavings,  there  is  some  fire  raging.  When 
iron  runs  down  like  water  there  is  intense  heat  in  the  conflagration. 
When  brick  melts  we  approach  the  limits  of  our  ability  to  measure 
heat.  But  when  a  tongue  of  flame,  fed  by  choicest  combustibles 
and  driven  by  a  blast,  touches  stone  and  it  snaps  and  crackles  like 
powder  under  the  match  and  then  melts  and  runs  down  like  molten 
glass,  we  have  the  climax  of  combustion  in  the  open  air.  I  well 
remember  passing  through  here  a  few  days  after  the  worst  was  over, 
while  yet  great  mountains  of  anthracite  coal  were  blazing,  and 
smoke  and  steam  were  ascending  from  numberless  pits  that  once 
were  cellars;  when  ashes  and  soot  and  blackness  were  on  every  side; 
when  bridges  were  down,  and  over  wide  acres  upon  acres  there  was 
no  sign  of  the  city  that  had  gone  up.  I  look  over  it  to-day,  and, 
more  marvelous  than  Arabian  Nights,  here  stands  without  doubt, 
in  solid  blocks,  the  best  built  city  in  the  world.  Every  man  vied 
with  his  neighbor  to  build  larger,  costlier,  and  better  than  he. 
Nothing  small  and  mean  and  cheap  detracts  from  the  magnificent. 
New  York  is  richer  and  greater  in  many  ways;  Boston  has  more  cul- 
ture, probably.  Philadelphia  may  have  the  best  blood,  but  in  vigor 
and  enterprise  and  business  courage  and  undertaking  Chicago  leads 
them  all. 

As  an  instance  the  conduct  of  the  head  of  this  firm  under  our 
feet  has  always  been  quoted  by  those  who  were  conversant  with  the 
facts.  He  was  at  the  time  of  the  fire  low  down  in  the  firm  of 
William  Blair  &  Co.,  an  old  and  established  hor.se  doing  an  enor- 
mous business  on  the  most  conservative  principles.  Awakened  at 
the  dead  of  night  by  word  that  fire  was  rapidly  approaching  the 
store  he  hastily  arose  and  went  down  town,  but  the  sea  of  fire 
encircled  their  house  so  that  he  could  come  nowhere  near  to  it. 
For  a  moment  he  viewed  its  destruction  from  a  distance,  then  grasp- 
ing the  situation  he  turned  his  back  upon  the  scene  that  was  wiping 
out  their  past  and  set  to  work  to  shape  a  future.  He  remem- 
bered seeing  recently  a  very  large  brick  building  outside  the  fire  cir- 
cle just  approaching  completion.  Hunting  up  the  owner  he  leased 
it  at  less  than  $10,000  per  annum.  Then  striking  off  a  business 
circular,  he  drummed  up  a  printer  and  set  him  at  work  throwing 
them  from  his  press.  Then  far  and  wide  over  the  country  he  tele- 
graphed his  orders  for  new  stock,  and  when  morning  broke  his 
house  was  on  its  feet  again.  The  old  store  was  still  a  mass  of  red 


14  A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY. 

ruins,  unapproachable  for  many  squares,  when  the  new  was  already 
a  success.  With  the  opening  of  business  hours  came  the  carpenters 
to  put  up  the  shelving  and  other  necessary  appurtenances.  Then 
came  telegrams  from  all  quarters  announcing  goods  on  the  way, 
and  generally  ending  with  "  Hurrah  for  Chicago!"  "  Bully  for  you!" 
"  Go  in  and  win!"  and  other  such  sentiment.  Also  now  came 
throngs  of  business  men  seeking  quarters  and  offering  almost  any 
price  for  accommodation.  Thirty  thousand  dollars  rent  could 
easily  have  been  taken  for  the  block,  but  the  answer  always  came, 
"We  pay  so  much  for  the  building;  William  Blair  &  Co.  cannot 
afford  to  make  money  out  of  such  distress  as  now  prevails ;  whatever 
space  we  do  not  require  is  at  your  disposal,  and  we  will  apportion 
the  rent  agreed  upon  according  to  accommodation."  Such  grit  and 
good  spirit  rebuilt  the  city,  and  this  is  the  living  spirit  in  its  wheels 
of  progress.  By  and  by  this  grand  store  was  enriched  with  an  in- 
creasing trade.  Then  with  the  revolving  years  Mr.  Nelson  fell 
asleep,  and  Mr.  Blair,  full  of  years  and  wealth,  retired,  and  Mr. 
Norton  came  to  the  head.  Associating  with  himself  younger  men, 
backed  by  vast  capital,  he  pushed  on  to  greater  development  the 
house  he  has  shown  himself  so  well  qualified  to  command.  A  poor 
boy  from  a  country  village,  he  has  won  every  step  of  his  progress  by 
the  excellence  of  his  character  and  by  dint  of  the  hardest  knocks. 
Such  men  should  be  a  living  inspiration  to  youth  of  both  sexes. 
Be  honest,  be  capable,  be  gritty,  and  success  will  make  you  her 
best  bow. 

Nevertheless,  when  beauty  is  up  for  remark,  big,  busy,  bustling 
Chicago  must  give  place  to  Cleveland,  the  elegant.  Soft  with  warm 
spring  showers,  wooed  by  strong  sunbeams,  her  continuous  lawns, 
close  shaven,  are  at  their  greenest,  the  maples  and  elms  are  spring- 
ing to  leaf.  Choice  crocuses  and  pansies  and  violets,  vanguard  of 
the  great  floral  army  that  is  marching  northward,  have  already 
pitched  their  welcome  tents.  Here  is  the  home  of  Dr.  C.  S.  Sprecher, 
my  esteemed  predecessor  in  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  of  Oak- 
land. The  same  success  that  attended  him  there  and  in  San  Fran- 
cisco still  waits  upon  him  here.  His  evening  audiences  are  steadily 
increasing.  Here  also  is  my  monument  in  the  Case  Avenue 
Presbyterian  Church,  the  result  of  nine  years  of  hard  labor,  a 
monument  that  will  abide  even  should  fire  destroy  the  building  of 
Amherst  stone.  No  work  is  so  lasting  as  that  which  is  done  for 


A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  15 

God  and  humanity.  No  friendships  can  compare  with  those  formed 
amid  such  associations.  And  within  this  circle  the  very  strongest 
are  found  where  the  members  are  few  and  the  work  is  great,  where 
labors  and  denials  are  daily  experiences  and  hope  delayed  makes 
the  heart  sick.  Then  the  chaff  is  blown  away  by  the  rough  gales  of 
circumstance  and  the  winnowed  grain  alone  abides.  Heart  joins  to 
heart,  hand  to  hand,  and  through  all  sunderings  of  subsequent  days 
the  link  of  golden  friendship  firmly  holds. 

What  more  natural,  then,  than  that  I  should  at  once  upon  arrival 
drop  in  on  Captain  Kendall  of  the  regular  army,  now  retired  ? 
What  more  in  harmony  with  good  form  than  that,  after  their  first 
breath  of  surprise,  they  should  say:  "  Must  you  go  right  on  to-mor- 
row? Well,  then,  we  will  summon  the  old  guard  to  dinner  here 
to-night."  And  such  of  them  as  could  be  reached  came  and  a 
happy  time  we  had.  Harness  imagination  to  thought  and  draw  no 
rein  over  the  foam  flecked  steeds  until  within  the  better  country 
ahead.  Do  you  see  yon  animated  group  interested  most  of  all  in 
themselves?  They  are  an  "old  guard,"  whose  friendships,  surviv- 
ing the  wreck  of  fortune,  the  flight  of  time,  the  waste  of  disease,  the 
crumbling  to  dust  of  the  temple  of  the  body,  are  strongest  now  and 
reformed  for  all  eternity. 

The  growth  of  the  anti-saloon  sentiment  in  Ohio  is  wonderful. 
And  the  most  interesting  feature  of  it  all  is  that  the  Republican 
party  is  making  it  an  issue  before  the  people.  The  wind  is  being 
taken  from  the  sails  of  the  Prohibitionists,  men  who  have  become 
restive  to  an  almost  insufferable  degree  under  the  inactivity  of  the 
Republican  party  on  this  question  are  now  being  reassured  and  are  re- 
turning to  their  allegiance  with  joy.  The  fear  of  losing  the  German  vote 
has  passed  away,  and,  indeed,  of  losing  anything.  The  sentiment  of  the 
Sute  is  rising,  so  that  there  is  more  to  gain  than  to  lose  by  an  open 
advocacy  of  local  option.  Many  small  centers,  where  liquor  has 
dominated  from  time  unreckoned,  have  been  c'eaned  out  at  the 
ballot  box,  and  now  in  a  quiet  way,  but  with  great  momentum,  the 
drift  of  thought  is  toward  a  vote  by  wards  in  the  great  cities.  Out 
often  wards  in  almost  any  city  seven  would  vote  no  liquor.  This 
would  throw  the  selling  and  drinking  into  the  other  three.  This 
would  so  depreciate  property  by  the  comparison,  by  the  moving 
out  of  better  classes,  that  sooner  or  later,  in  self  defense,  those 


16  A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 

wards  would  join  the  others.  If  not,  then  crimes  would  be  concen- 
trated there,  police  patrol  would  be  multiplied  there,  criminal 
statistics  would  point  almost  to  the  very  doors  where  crime  is  fos- 
tered. Why  cannot  our  good  friends  of  the  Prohibition  party  join 
us  in  working  up  to  some  such  point  ?  Ohio  has  not  done  this  in  a 
day.  Why  insist  upon  conquering  the  rebellion  in  the  battle  of 
some  one  day?  Ohio  has  a  Sunday  law  and  is  using  it  with  effect 
in  this  campaign.  California  should  have  one  too.  Free-thinkers 
hoot  at  the  idea  because  it  has  a  savor  of  religion  about  it.  They 
might  as  well  hoot  at  conscience  for  the  same  reason.  The 
Adventists  oppose  it  with  all  their  vigor,  and  stand  arrayed  against 
the  party  of  national  reform  and  against  the  progress  of  the  anti- 
saloon  movement.  The  more  is  the  pity.  Others  for  other  reasons 
are  in  the  same  class,  but  two  things  are  clear  in  the  future  sky  of 
California,  viz  :  There  will  be  a  Sabbath  law  and  the  saloons  must 
retire.  The  rising  sentiment  will  before  long  overflow  its  banks  and 
sweep  in  a  deluge  of  life  over  our  wide  plains.  May  God  speed 
the  day. 

Phew  !  How  we  are  flying  through  New  York  State  on  the 
limited  !  If  I  find  anything  finer  than  this  in  my  travels  in  the  way 
of  railroading,  I  shall  make  a  note  of  it.  But  don't  set  your  heart 
on  the  note.  I  think  it  will  not  come.  Palace  day  coaches, 
vestibuled,  with  dining  car,  stopping  on  an  average  once  in  eighty- 
eight  miles,  and  going  like  Tarn  O'Shanter  running  away  from  the 
witches,  over  a  smooth  road  well  ballasted,  having  four  tracks, 
insuring  safety  against  collision,  all  this  is  a  combination  not  easily 
found.  More  than  all,  I  have  in  my  pocket  a  pair  of  those  little 
conveniences  which  the  unaccustomed  Britisher  calls  "brasses,"  but 
which  we  invented  and  call  checks.  FRANCIS  A.  HORTON. 


LETTER  IV. 

PHILMONT,  N.  Y.,  May  i5th. 

Dear  Robin  Redbreast,  why  does  he  not  come  to  Oakland  to  live  ? 
the  children  would  love  him,  he  would  be  so  happy  skipping  over 
our  lawns  with  his  'Dot-and-go-one"  hop,  worms  and  fruit  are  there 
in  satisfying  abundance,  why  does  he  not  come  ?  Yonder  in  the 
old  pine  trees  just  above  this  house  where  I  was  born,  is  singing 


A    PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  17 

now  one  of  those  beautiful  creatures  his  evening  hymn.  Oh  !  how 
it  chirps  and  swells  and  trills  and  rolls.  I  fancy  that  he  is  singing  a 
welcome  horns  to  me ;  he  certainly  found  his  keynote  in  my  heart. 
Doubtless  he  is  a  lineal  descendant  of  those  who  have  summered  in 
that  tree  for  generations.  So  tame  were  they  that  they  would  get  in 
the  way  of  the  hoe  in  their  eagerness  to*ecure  the  fat  earthworm. 
Dear  fellow,  how  you  carry  me  back  along  the  track  of  time.  How 
you  cover  again  the  fields  that  border  the  laughing  Occawamuc  with 
dense  and  primeval  forests,  broken  only  here  and  there  by  settle- 
ments. I  see  the  young  and  handsome  bride  with  her  stalwart 
husband  coming  here  to  find  a  home.  Your  ancestors  sang  bridal 
carols  for  them  morning  and  night.  I  see  the  first  baby  in  its 
cradle,  an  occasion  of  wonder  and  curiosity  to  the  dark,  savage  men, 
silent  but  friendly,  who  enter  unannounced  at  any  hour.  I  see  them 
lift  it  in  their  strong  arms  while  the  mother  stands  by  a  picture  of 
smiling  agony,  smiling  in  order  not  to  show  fears  or  distrust,  agony 
at  the  spectre  of  a  possibility  that  they  might  walk  off  with  it. 
While  you  sing  the  panoramic  years  roll  on.  The  scene  changes ; 
the  forests  are  no  more,  save  in  the  rocky  fastnesses  about  the  great 
falls  where  madly  leaps  the  Occawamuc  to  a  lower  level  a  sheer 
hundred  feet.  Wild  scenery,  full  of  inspiration !  One  cannot  help 
singing,  cannot  help  imagining  great  deeds.  Its  roar  is  like  the 
tread  of  hosts,  its  shock  and  tremble  are  like  the  colliding  of  mighty 
forces,  the  soughing  of  the  wind  evermore  through  the  trees  is  the 
music  of  the  eternal  battle.  The  red  man  now  has  gone,  the  wild' 
stream  is  tamed,  and  you,  robin,  who  sang  its  days  of  freedom,  sing 
now  its  days  of  fettered  industry,  as,  like  a  blind  old  Sampson  at 
his  mill,  it  turns  the  multiplied  wheels  of  manufacture. 

Then  came  my  day.  As  along  these  waters  I  rambled  with  rod 
and  line  you  sang  for  me.  As  through  these  meadows  I  hunted  the 
luscious  strawberry,  small  but  sweet,  you  with  Robert  of  Lincoln 
kept  me  company.  In  later  years,  when  in  this  deep  cave  I  made 
my  first  study  and  set  me  down  to  write  my  earliest  sermon,  you  were 
my  choirmaster.  The  murmuring  waters  rippling  past  its  mouth 
filled  up  the  melody,  and  ever  since  in  all  my  later  efforts  I  think 
I  can  detect  the  echo  of  your  early  encouragement,  and  the  deep, 
soothing  murmur  of  the  heart  of  nature,  that  covers  all  defects  and 
tones  all  into  harmony.  The  panorama  rolls  and  still  you  sing,  and 
now  that  bride  of  yore,  our  aged  and  beloved  mother,  dies,  and  with 


18  A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 

<our  tears  your  plaintive  expressions  of  grief  were  mingled,  and  your 
•song  has  ever  since  contained  to  me  a  tear.  And  when  yesterday 
we  turned  aside  into  the  churchyard  to  stand  awhile  by  mother's 
grave,  that  tenderest  spot  on  earth  to  manly  heart,  that  place  where 
earth 'and  heaven  closest  j^n,  dear,  dear  old  Rob,  there  we  found 
you,  your  lone  watch  ke^Rng.  And  well  you  may,  for  well  she 
loved  you.  Keep  thus  near  the  gate  of  heaven,  Rob ;  it  will  be 
pleasanter  to  have  you  therein,  and  I  think  that  you  shall  be  there- 
Does  not  tradition  truly  say  that  you  found  your  red  breast  by 
sympathetic  contact  with  the  bleeding  side  of  the  Man  of  Sorrows 
as  he  bled  to  open  heaven  ?  Heaven's  own  bird,  paradise  is  not  too 
good  for  you.  A  seraph  might  do  worse  than  pluck  enough  of  down 
from  his  soft  wing  to  make  old  Rob  a  nest. 

"Change  and  decay  on  all  around  I  see  "  as  I  move  about  among 
the  scenes  of  my  childhood.  The  old  oaken  bucket  has  gone,  the 
very  well  has  gone,  the  garden  that  lay  near  it  has  gone, 
all  given  up  to  other  uses.  The  grand  old  hills  that  gave 
such  sport  to  us  coasters  when  winter  covered  them  with 
snow  and  glaring  ice  are  made  now  to  bow  their  heads  and 
consent  to  easier  grades.  The  stream  that  went  dancing  and 
glinting  along  is  a  reservoir  now,  a  change  as  from  frolicsome 
boy  to  sober  man.  The  farms  are  village  sites  now,  and  cottages 
supplant  the  waving  grain.  The  farmers,  too,  are  gone,  save  where 
now  and  then  one  sees  an  aged  man  leaning  on  his  staff  or  draws 
nearer  to  hear  him  talk  of  the  good  old  quiet  times  of  the  long  ago. 
In  what  I  see  and  tell  I  touch  the  heart  of  many  an  Oaklander 
whose  experience  coincides  with  mine  or  whose  fear  of  such 
experience  delays  his  footsteps  of  return  to  the  old  home.  Each 
present  place  and  present  station  are  all  that  we  may  call  our  own. 
No  deed  to  property  can  hold  it  to  us  the  very  same  through  years. 
Men  may  not  rob  us  of  it,  but  time  and  change  will  eat  away  its 
very  self  so  that  while  the  semblance  remains  the  thing  itself  has 
escaped,  even  as  the  pile  stands  firm  and  sound  to  the  eye  while  the 
teredo  has  really  carried  it  away.  Nature  buries  our  past  and  begins 
to  dig  its  grave  as  soon  as  we  are  advanced  one  single  step,  grazes 
our  heel  as  she  strikes  in  her  hasty  spade,  old  grave  digger  that 
she  is.  Would  that  she  could  bury  many  of  our  doings  that 
memory  recalls  as  ensily  as  she  buries  our  belongings. 


A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  19 

But  as  though  by  contrast  with  our  evanishing  to  set  forth  her  own 
perduring,  we  have  but  to  lift  our  eye  and  there  s'tretches  away  the 
lofty  range  of  the  Catskills.  From  childhood  we  have  studied  them 
and  to-day  there  is  no  elevation,  no  depression  that  is  not  an  old 
familiar  object.  Deep  lie  the  shadows  on  the  Kaaterskill  clove,  while 
sweeping  nobly  upwards  and  northward  rounds  the  high  top  of 
North  mountain,  on  whose  northern  slope  stands  out  the  Catskill 
Mountain  House,  now  entering  upon  its  sixty-sixth  year.  On  its 
southern  slope  stands  the  new  Kaaterskill  in  full  view.  Rome  has  its 
legends  and  we  laugh  at  them,  but  to  this  day  great  foundations 
stand  in  close  connection  with  events  as  pueri'e  as  a  suckling 
mother  wolf.  Thus  the  celebrated  house  last  named  sprang  from  a 
chicken  (a  spring  chicken,  but  we  forbear  to  pun). 

One  day  at  the  Mountain  House  a  guest  ordered  spring  chicken 
and  was  informed  that  he  could  not  have  it,  He  made  a  rumpus 
nnd  was  told  that  if  he  wanted  spring  chicken  he  had  better  build 
an  hotel  of  his  own  and  furnish  it.  He  vowed  that  he  would,  and 
he  did,  and  the  Kaaterskill  is  the  magnificent  result  of  that  quarrel. 
It  is  said  that  their  bill  of  fare  is  never  without  spring  chicken.  Such 
antics  hot  blooded  men  can  play,  even  among  the  clouds  on  nature's 
always  solemn  and  impressive  high  places.  But  to  stand  on  that 
piazza  of  the  old  Mountain  House  and  look  off.  Oh  !  what  a  vision  ! 
The  Hudson  winding  aljng  for  full  seventy  miles,  the  Berk- 
shire hills  to  the  east  shutting  in  the  scene,  the  Fishkill  range 
to  the  south,  the  Adirondacks  to  the  north,  and  the  Cat- 
skill  under  our  feet  and  rolling  up  high  behind  us,  the  wide 
valley  laid  as  on  the  flat  surface  of  a  map  with  wood  and  cultivated 
field  and  stream  and  lovely  home  as  far  as  tbe  eye  can  see.  And 
now  the  deep  thunder  breaks,  but  it  is  below  us,  the  sun  is  glorious 
overhead,  but  from  north  and  south  up  and  down  the  valley  move 
the  cloud  armies,  and  now  they  approach  nearer ;  now  the  forked 
lightning  flashes  across,  the  fierce  artillery  of  the  skies;  the  peal 
follows,  louder,  quicker ;  we  hear  the  rain  falling  on  the  tree  tops 
below,  but  still  over  us  the  sun  shines  on,  another  instance  of  the 
upper  ten  thousand  in  sunshine,  the  lower  five  in  misery.  They 
mingle,  they  are  too  close  for  cannonading  any  longer,  they  blend 
and  become  a  sea,  and  fill  the  valley  to  our  very  feet  with  a  luminous 
waste  of  apparent  waters,  with  surface  broken  into  billows  by  the 
passing  gale.  Yet  from  beneath  those  cloud  waves  come  strange 


20  A    PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 

sounds  of  life,  lowing  of  herds,  shouts  of  workmen,  and  the  like,  with 
strange  weird  effect  as  though  we  were  gazing  into  some  hades, 
impenetrable  to  vision  yet  which  the  ear  peoples  with  life.  There  to 
the  south  lies  the  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain,  flat  on  his  back,  his 
forehead,  eyebrows,  sockets,  nose,  lips,  chin,  neck,  all  clean  cut.  His 
swelling  breast  is  a  mighty  ridge,  his  raised  knee  is  a  lofty  peak,  his 
foot  a  noble  spur  of  the  range.  From  change  and  decay  to  such 
surroundings  we  cheerfully  turn,  glad  to  be  reminded  that  there  are 
some  things  that  do  not  change.  Thus,  prophet  and  poet  have  ever 
arisen  from  their  tasks  for  and  among  men  to  reassure  their  souls  by- 
something  steadfast.  Then  have  they  turned  to  the  mountains,  and 
from  them  by  an  easy  transition  to  him  who  laid  their  deep 
foundations.  To  the  lover  of  nature  the  mountains  are  an  un- 
wearying attraction. 

To  the  farming  population  these  mountains  serve  as  a  barometer. 
When  one  arises  in  the  morning  the  first  thing  to  do  is  to  look  at 
them.  By  their  nearness  or  remoteness  the  state  of  the  atmosphere 
is  judged  and  the  character  of  the  day  prognosticated.  If  clouds 
hang  on  them  the  position  of  the  clouds  is  significant,  and  a  note  is 
made  whether  they  form  a  "nightcap"  for  the  peaks  or  a  "belt" 
for  the  middle.  If  the  clouds  are  moving,  the  direction  they  take 
shows  whether  rain  or  dry  may  be  expected.  Thus  for  long  years 
they  are  man's  companion,  and  one  cannot  wonder  at  the  sense  of 
homesickness  experienced  by  such  when  removed  from  them.  As 
one  expressed  it  who  returned  from  the  more  level  west,  -'I  couldn't 
stand  it;  it  seemed  as  though  the  gable  end  was  kicked  out  of  all 
creation."  When  to  love  for  them  one  adds  that  of  the  noble 
Hudson,  the  imperial  Hudson,  that  flows  along  their  base,  an  idea 
can  be  formed  of  the  strength  of  the  spell  ihat  binds  all  residents  to 
their  homes  in  these  localities.  Moving  amid  these  old  familiar 
scenes,  I  feel  the  awaking  love,  and  strike  a  compromise  with  my 
heart  by  saying,  every  place  has  its  compensating  advantages ; 
nature  has  left  none  entirely  out  in  the  cold. 

FRANCIS  A.  HORTON. 


A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  21 

LETTER  V. 

PHILADELPHIA,  May  25. 

At  last  we  are  in  our  Presbyterian  Jerusalem.  This  is  hallowed 
soil  to  our  church.  Here  was  created  our  republic,  with  which  our 
Presbyterian  fathers  had  much  to  do,  as  was  only  natural,  lor  Pres- 
byterianism  is  essentially  republicanism,  as  Anglicanism  is  essen- 
tially monarchical  and  Romanism  is  essentially  despotic,  in  tendency. 
Here  was  formed  the  first  presbytery  in  the  United  States,  here  was 
formed  the  first  synod,  and  here  was  formed  the  first  assembly, 
which  convened  in  1788,  just  one  hundred  years  ago.  Here  also, 
in  the  year  1870,  was  celebrated  the  grand  reunion  of  the  old  and 
new  schools,  which  took  place  in  the  very  church  wherein  the  open- 
ing exercises  of  this  Centennial  Assembly  occured  on  the  i7th  inst. 
There  are  to-day  within  the  limits  of  this  city  Presbyterian  churches 
of  all  kinds  to  the  number  of  104.  Every  fifth  person  met  npon  the 
streets,  man,  woman  and  child,  is  a  Presbyterian,  and  none  of  them 
look  very  blue,  either.  This  is  the  place  where  Presbyterians  never 
do  look  blue.  Our  denomination  alone  has  here  106  Sabbath  schools, 
containing  42,562  members.  The  churches  are  substantial,  the 
newer  ones  quite  beautiful.  But  no  attempt  is  made  to  keep  pace 
with  the  wondrous  beauty  and  costliness  of  many  of  the  public  and 
corporation  buildings.  In  this  respect  Philadelphia  stands  quite 
alone.  Solidity,  massiveness,  costliness,  and  beauty  combine  in 
many  public  buildings  to  a  rare  degree. 

The  churches  are  well  attended  at  the  morning  service,  and  in 
some  instances  where  less  exhaustion  of  energy  is  occasioned  by 
religious  work  on  the  part  of  the  people,  or  where  more  energy  is  put 
into  the  service  on  the  part  of  the  pastor,  both  services  are  full. 
Among  all  of  our  local  men  here,  I  am  informed  by  a  competent 
critic,  John  Hemphill,  formerly  of  San  Francisco,  is  the  most  pop- 
ular and  best  "  all  round"  preacher,  and  has  the  largest  audiences. 
This  will  be  a  good  word  to  his  many  friends  on  the  Pacific  coast 
where  he  lived  for  thirteen  years. 

The  assembly  is  in  full  blast.  From  Puget  sound  to  Mexico,  from 
Boston  to  North  Carolina,  and  from  all  regions  between  commission- 
ers are  in  attendance.  From  far  off  lands  they  have  come.  The 
Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States,  the  Gubernational  Chair  of 
Pennsylvania,  the  Territorial  Commission  of  Washington  Territory, 


22  A  PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 

the  National  Senate,  the  judicial  bench  of  Minnesota  contribute  to 
its  membership.  Editors,  professors,  lawyers,  doctors,  preachers, 
bankers,  men  from  all  the  branches  of  industry  which  Presbyterians 
engage  are  here  to  the  number  of  nearly  600.  Hospitality  has  been 
extended  to  1500  in  immediate  connection  with  the  assembly.  It  is 
a  very  strong  body.  Some  of  the  old  men  are  here,  some  of  the 
younger  men  are  here,  but  the  mass  is  composed  of  the  burden 
bearers,  the  destiny  shapers  of  the  church.  Men  long  separated 
meet  again  and  refresh  their  memories  of  the  days  of  old  lang  syne. 
The  lobbies  present  animated  scenes.  Very  many  ladies  are  in 
attendance  in  the  interests  of  missions  or  simply  in  company  with 
their  husbands  to  share  in  the  celebrations. 

The  auspicious  day  opened  without  a  cloud.  The  air  was  pleas- 
ant and  cool,  the  sun  filtered  through  the  opening  leaves  of  the 
trees  and  fell  in  golden  patches  upon  the  walks.  The  body  met  at 
Horticultural  Hall  and,  augmented  to  a  force  of  1500  by  visitors, 
quietly  marched  by  twos  up  Brook  street  to  Washington  square  to 
the  First  church.  It  was  a  typical  Presbyterian  procession.  There 
was  no  brass  band  with  brazen  clamors  of  pride  and  ostentation  ; 
there  were  no  flaunting  banners  thrown  to  the  breeze;  there  was  noth- 
ing to  indicate  who  or  what  the  body  of  men  were,  nor  why  they 
were  here,  nor  why  the  city  was  so  moved  at  their  presence.  They 
needed  nothing  of  the  sort  in  these  surroundings.  Their  name, 
their  character,  their  history,  were  household  words.  Before  that 
vast  assemblage  Ex-moderator  Dr.  Smith  arose  and  in  fitting 
words  announced  his  text  as  that  upon  which  Dr.  Witherspoon 
had  preached  at  the  first  assembly  one  hundred  years  ago, 
viz:  i  Cor.  iii,  "Neither  is  he  that  planteth  anything  nor  he 
that  watereth,  but  God  that  giveth  the  increase."  Of  course 
plowing,  watering,  and  increasing  were  lines  along  which  the 
noble  discourse  ran  the  history  of  the  past  century  in  our 
church  life  and  progress.  Grand  old  man,  his  sermon  was 
one  that  any  younger  man  might  envy,  his  mellifluous  delivery  rings 
in  pleasing  cadences  in  my  ear  still.  I  could  not  help  saying,  "What 
need  is  there  to  speak  of  a  dead  line  at  fifty  or  sixty  years  for  the 
preacher  when  men  of  such  advanced  age  have  still  such  power." 
There  is  no  dead-line  except  when  a  man  ceases  to  think  and  study. 
This  may  come  at  thirty,  or  may  never  come,  as  the  man  himself 
shall  select. 


JVERS1TY 


A    PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  23 

Kansas  City  gives  to  us  the  Moderator  in  the  person  o'f  Dr. 
Thompson.  He  was  chosen  in  part  because  he  represents  the  "Far 
West."  It  is  very  amusing,  and  now  and  then  not  a  little  provoking, 
to  see  how  little  the  average  man  east  of  the  Rocky  mountains 
knows  of  the  far  West.  The  patronizing  manner,  not  to  say  the 
half  pitying  manner,  in  which  we  are  referred  to  it  is  sometimes 
hard  to  endure.  And  it  does  no  good  to  explain,  for  their  minds 
are  made  up  about  it,  and  any  description  of  affairs  with  another 
coloring  is  discredited.  I  took  occasion  to  speak  up  for  California 
in  the  matter  of  education  after  some  good  New  York  man  had 
appealed  to  the  body  to  come  to  our  rescue  in  the  matter  of  educa- 
tion lest  we  should  grow  up  in  illiteracy,  and  at  table  in  the  hotel  a 
couple  of  hours  later  I  had  the  pleasure  of  having  one  of  my  best 
friends,  who  sat  with  his  back  to  me  and  was  unaware  of  my  pres- 
ence, say,  "  Horton  must  have  made  that  a  little  rose  colored." 
This  was  offset  by  a  confession  by  Dr.  Worden,  who  heard  me  speak 
of  California  affairs  at  Minneapolis  two  years  ago.  He  had  the 
same  opinion  of  my  statements,  but  since  that  day  he  has  visited 
California,  with  his  estimable  wife,  and  now  makes  a  voluntary  con- 
fession to  me  that  I  did  not  tell  one  half  of  the  case.  So  little  by 
little,  Eastern  eyes  are  opening. 

The  interest  in  the  question  of  fraternal  relations  with  the  Pres- 
byterian Church  South  was  the  culminating  point.  It  was  looked  ahead 
to  for  weeks;  ever  since  the  publication  of  the  official  correspondence 
between  the  committees  of  the  two  assemblies,  which  for  urbanity, 
loftiness,  and  diplomacy  is  not  often  equaled.  Then  the  com- 
mittees of  arrangements  provided  for  an  all  day  meeting  of  the  two 
bodies  in  two  places  in  this  city,  to  be  presided  over  and  addressed 
by  Northern  and  Southern  men,  turn  and  turn  about,  on  great  vital 
questions  of  church  life  and  progress.  Before  this  day  came  an 
invitation  was  extended  to  both  assemblies  from  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Wistar  Morris  of  Overbrook  to  meet  at  their  residence  and  be 
received.  This  was  accepted.  Upon  this  came  another  invitation 
to  attend  a  joint  reception  at  the  Academy  of  Fine  Arts.  The 
first  wras  set  for  Wednesday  afternoon,  the  23d  inst.,  the  second  for 
the  evening  of  the  same  day,  the  following  day  being  the  great  day 
of  joint  celebration  before  mentioned.  These  arrangements  were 
carried  out  to  the  very  letter.  We  met  and  fraternized  and  learned 
to  respect  each  other.  The  Northern  Church  wore  blue  silk  badges, 


24  A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 

small,  chaste,  and  suitably  inscribed  with  gilt  letters  with  name  of 
our  body.  The  Southern  brethren  wore  white  badges  with  a  trans- 
verse diagonal  bar  of  blue.  Wherever  in  the  vast  throng  of  more 
than  5000  people  the  badged  men  met  there  was  no  waiting  for  a 
farther  introduction,  but  palm  met  palm  and  brotherhood  was  estab- 
lished on  the  spot.  Amid  the  highest  works  of  art  in  the  many 
rooms  we  moved  about,  with  flowers  on  every  side,  the  band  dis- 
coursing sweet  music,  and  the  spirit  of  true  brotherhood  over  all. 
Every  one  voted  it  a  great  success.  After  a  good  night's  rest,  the 
morning  broke  on  the  day  of  days. 

The  rain  came  down  copiously,  but  no  one  heeded  it.  The  feast 
was  spread  and  every  one  chose  his  place.  We  studied  the  pro- 
gramme and  chose  Horticultural  Hall.  Here  a  son  of  old  Dr. 
Robert  J.  Breckinbridge,  a  member  of  Congress  from  Kentucky,  led 
off  in  an  address  upon  "Calvinism  and  Liberty."  The  spirit  of  his 
father  seemed  to  rest  upon  him.  Large,  graceful,  with  snow  white 
hair  and  full  beard,  he  held  that  immense  throng  spell-bound  under 
one  of  the  finest  specimens  of  sustained  oratory  to  which  I  have 
ever  listened.  Bursts  and  rolls  of  applause  cheered  him  on  from 
period  to  period,  and  when  he  had  finished  it  rose  to  an  ova- 
tion. He  came  forward  and  gracefully  acknowledged  the  compli- 
ment on  behalf  of  the  truth  he  had  uttered.  Let  no  man  ever  say, 
while  such  men  and  such  themes  meet,  that  oratory  is  a  lost  art. 
Impassioned  utterances  of  lofty  and  far  reaching  truth  thrill  and 
electrify  to-day  as  at  any  period  of  the  world's  history.  Then  came 
on  Howard  Crosby  of  New  York,  who  was  introduced  as  being 
"every  inch  a  scholar  and  every  inch  a  man,"  who,  amid  great 
demonstrations  of  admiration,  opened  the  subject  of  "  Presbyterian- 
ism  and  Biblical  Scholarship."  He  went  headlong  after  the  men 
who  bow  down  to  the  continent  and  regard  "German  indorsement 
as  a  title  to  intellectual  nobility."  Near  him  sat  some  of  those  who 
are  given  to  evolving  wonderful  things  from  their  own  "  inner  con- 
sciousness,** who  are  victims  of  "intellectual  inebriety,"  who  discuss 
the  scriptures  "  as  having  been  on  the  ground  when  they  were 
given,"  into  whose  notions  he  poured  hot  shot  for  the  space  of  forty 
minutes.  It  was  a  rare  treat,  and  between  him  and  Mr.  Breckin- 
ridge  the  honors  were  easy  and  the  audience  in  raptures 

In  the  afternoon  Dr.  John  Hall  opened  up  the  subject  of  "City 
Evangelization"  in  his  clear  and  forcible  manner.  He  was  followed 


A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  25 

by  Dr.  Hoge  of  Richmond,  Va.,  upon  a  kindred  theme.  Tall,  lank, 
angular,  with  high  cheekbones,  a  pinched  face,  and  sharp  nasal 
tones,  he  has  yet  the  true  oratorical  fire  burning  within  him,  and 
held  the  close  attention  of  the  house  for  three  quarters  of  an  hour. 
A  very  pretty  little  passage  occurred  between  him  and  Dr.  Hall, 
showing  how  keenly  alive  is  the  body  to  anything  that  smacks  of 
union.  Dr.  Hall  explained  how  he  had  tried  to  induce  Mr.  Jessup 
to  take  his  place,  and  how  he  resisted  his  pastor.  "So,"  said  he, 
"  when  two  great  bodies  come  together  it  is  necessary  that  each  give 
way  a  little."  The  assembly  caught  it,  and  made  the  welkin  ring. 
"Be  not  so  hasty  in  your  generalization,"  said  Dr.  Hall,  "I  was  only 
speaking  of  personal  matters."  And  then  the  applause  was  louder. 
When  Dr.  Hoge  came  to  speak  he  referred  to  the  two  churches, 
remarking:  "They  are  not  one,  nor  yet  are  two,  but  both  look 
alike  as  sisters  do."  Then  he  added,  "they  not  for  that  reason 
marry  each  other,  they  may  prefer  to  marry  some  one  else."  The 
crowd  caught  the  idea  again  and  when  the  noise  had  subsided  some- 
what he  sharply  added,  "  Be  not  too  hasty  in  your  generalization. 
I  was  merely  speaking  of  personal  matters." 

Time  would  fail  to  speak  the  great  and  gifted  men  who  took  part 
in  the  discussion.  Dr.  Cuyler's  paper  on  foreign  missions  was  lau- 
ded to  the  skies.  The  church  in  Christ  for  a  lost  world  out  of  Christ 
was  one  of  his  epigrams  that  will  resound  down  along  Presbyterian 
halls  for  many  days  to  come.  The  next  day  the  debate  on  organic 
union  ran  high,  the  final  conclusion  being  to  enlarge  the  committee, 
accept  its  report,  adopt  substantially  its  provisions,  and  pass  them 
along  another  year.  The  result  was  entirely  unanimous  and  was 
announced  amid  long  continued  applause.  No  one  doubts  that  the 
events  of  the  past  few  days  have  mightily  strengthened  the  bonds  of 
love  between  the  churches  north  and  south.  God's  own  good  day  is 
coming  on,  we  would  not  hasten  it  unduly,  then  when  it  comes  it 
will  bring  in  the  desire  of  all  hearts  without  a  root  of  bitterness 
anywhere. 

The  immense  Academy  of  Music  is  packed  every  time  it  is  opened 
for  a  popular  meeting  in  connection  with  any  of  the  great  benevo- 
lent works  of  our  church.  Home  missions  and  Foreign  missions 
take  the  palm  and  the  very  best  speakers  attainable  address  the 
throngs.  Take  it  for  all  in  all  we  do  not  expect  to  see  so  glorious 


26  A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY. 

an  assembly  again.     Its  inspiration  will  lift  the  entire  church  in  its 
work  for  many  years  to  come. 

Now  we  are  up  and  away.  The  good  ship  Alaska  sails  on  Tues- 
day for  Queenstown,  and  by  the  time  this  reaches  you  some  one 
may  be  addressing  old  ocean  in  the  language  of  an  admiring 
sufferer : 

O,  deep,  deep,  mighty  deep, 
I  give  thee  what  I  cannot  keep. 
Alas,  let  us  hope  for  belter  things. 

FRANCIS  A.  HORTON. 


LETTER  VI. 

PROMENADE  DECK,  UNION  LINE  S.  S.  ALASKA,      \ 

June  4,  1888.  ; 

Once  upon  a  time  Dr.  Talmage  crossed  the  Atlantic  when  the 
sea  was  so  smooth  and  charming  that  he  wrote  an  article  in  its  praise 
entitled  'The  Smile  of  the  Sea."  I  greatly  fancy  that  the  sea  laughed 
in  its  sleeve  while  he  was  doing  it,  for  when  he  came  home  it  treated 
him  so  meanly  that  he  says  he  has  ever  since  been  mad  to  think 
that  he  wrote  that  letter.  Remembrance  of  that  fact  warns  me  to 
be  cautious.  The  present  temptation,  however,  is  to  laudatory  ob- 
servations; we  shall  only  say,  therefore,  that  if  the  sea  is  so  minded  it 
can  be  most  agreeable,  and  thus  only  have  we  found  it  on  this  voyage. 
Never  was  a  sail  down  the  Hudson  on  the  palatial  steamer  Drew  or 
on  the  St.  John  more  quite  than  have  been  portions  of  this  passage. 
It  is  the  poetry  of  motion,  and  barring  the  fog  on  the  Banks  and 
the  deafening  whistle  at  two  minutes  intervals,  there  is  not  the  least 
thing  to  occasion  inconvenience  or  to  mar  the  pleasure.  Some  peo. 
pie  are  in  bed,  of  course.  The  Alaska  is  a  remarkably  steady  ship. 
In  the  sea  that  now  is  on  she  does  not  list  enough  to  deflect  a  quoit 
in  the  game  of  shuffle  board.  This  is  a  point  that  ladies  should  note, 
for  ordinarily  they  fear  the  rolling  motion  more  than  the  pitching. 

In  every  other  respect  also  she  is  a  charming  vessel.  Her  appoint- 
ments are  complete,  her  saloon  is  large,  her  table  well  spread,  her  ser- 
vice cheerful  and  obliging,  her  decks  are  broad,  with  long  ranges  for 
the  necessary  daily  constitutional,  her  officers  inspire  confidence  by 
their  close  attention  to  duty,  and  last,  but  not  least,  she  does  not 


A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  27 

loiter  on  her  course.  On  the  contrary  she  is  a  spinner,  making  about 
four  hundred  miles  per  day.  This  of  course  is  not  the  swiftest  time 
made  by  any  steamer,  but  it  is  well  up  towards  the  head  of  the  list 
and  will  satisfy  all  reasonable  demands.  We  he.irtily  commend  her 
to  all  our  friends  who  comtemplate  the  ocean  passage. 

What  a  world  by  itself  a  passenger's  list  contains.  He  who  may  wish 
to  prosecute  character  studies  will  here  find  an  ample  field.  There, 
for  example,  yonder  is  Senator  Stanford  of  California  with  his  svife. 
He  is  quite  dignified,  courteous,  and  kind.  Nothing  about  his  per- 
son or  manner  indicates  that  he  is  a  distinguished  member  of  the 
United  States  Senate.  His  name  is  not  on  the  printed  list  of  pas- 
sengers. There  is  no  asumption  of  rights  above  any  other  person  and 
no  self  seclusion.  He  sits  on  deek  in  a  chair,  like  the  rest  of  us,  eats 
at  the  regular  table,  and  orders  from  the  same  bill  of  fare,  takes  a 
walk  with  his  wife  in  the  jolly  crowd  like  any  other  man  of  the  people. 
Yet  his  face  shows  to  a  close  student  of  physiognomy  that  he  was 
not  intended  to  do  things  in  a  small  way,  and  the  whole  set  of  his 
features  shows  a  determination  as  pronounced  as  his  modesty. 

Behind  me  at  table  is  a  hilarious  group,  composed  of  three 
Roman  Catholic  priests  and  several  men  with  whom  they  seem  to 
be  boon  companions.  This  morning  I  was  taking  an  early  walk  on 
deck  before  breakfast  with  one  of  these  gentlemen  when  Father 
Kelley  approached  and  the  following  amusing  conversation  took 
place. 

"The  top  o'  the  morning  to  ye,  Father." 

"The  top  o'  the  morning  to  yourself." 

"  And  did  ye  hear  burglars  in  the  night?" 

"No,  and  were  there  burglars?" 

"  Indeed  there  were,  and  you  ought  to  be  happy  this  morning  in 
that  ye  saved  two  lives." 

"Now  ye  surprise  me ;   and  how  did  I  save  two  lives?" 

"Well,  thin,  this  was  the  way  of  it.  My  room  mate  and  myself 
was  that  thirsty  in  the  night  that  we  were  about  to  die.  Indeed  it 
was  a  clear  case  that  we  should  expire  before  the  morning.  We 
liad  never  a  drop  and  we  knew  that  the  bar  was  shut,  so  that  our 
case  was  hopeless  indeed.  Then  a  thought  struck  me  and  I  said  to 
my  room  mate,  if  now,  we  can  get  around  to  Father  Kelly's  room, 
we  can  surely  find  the  medicine  that  will  keep  us  alive.  So  we  went 
about  to  your  room  and  found  the  door  unfastened.  We  were  the 


28  A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY. 

burglars,  Father,  and  we  searched  not  long  until  I  had  my  hand  on 
a  neat  demijohn,  and  I  poured  out  a  fufl  glass,  and  took  a  small 
pony  myself,  and  gave  a  good  one  to  my  friend,  and  the  remainder 
to  the  Steward,  who  saw  us,  so  that  he  would  not  report  our  doings 
to  the  Captain.  And  now  early  in  the  morning  I  haste  to  make  full 
confession  and  ask  your  absolution." 

"  No  sin  has  been  committed,"  was  the  ready  reply,  *'  and  no 
absolution  is  required,  in  this  that  ye  did  not  awaken  me,  for  I  was 
having  a  swate  sleep  and  had  ye  disturbed  me  it  would  have  been 
an  unpardonable  sin,  but  inasmuch  as  ye  did  not  awaken  me,  no 
sin  was  committed  and  no  forgiveness  need  be  asked." 

Father  Kelly  strolled  away  smiling  down  the  deck  and  I  asked, 
"  Is  all  this  a  morning  joke?" 

"  No,  indeed,"  was  the  reply,  "  it  is  all  fact  just  as  stated.  My 
business  calls  me  to  test  liquors  and  I  can  say  that  the  brandy 
referred  to  was  the  finest  which  I  have  tasted  for  many  a  day." 

Our  captain  is  a  splendid  study.  He  has  not  been  in  the  sight  of 
the  passengers  since  we  started,  his  chair  has  not  been  turned  in  the 
saloon  once  thus  far.  We  ran  into  fog  soon  after  leaving  Sandy 
Hook  and  have  been  in  it  ever  since.  He  has  two  sharp-eyed  men 
on  the  bow,  two  more  on  the  promenade  deck  forward,  two  officers 
and  a  quartermaster  on  the  bridge,  one  or  two  in  the  crow's  nest, 
besides  the  man  at  the  wheel.  Eight  or  nine  pairs  of  sharp  eyes 
peer  into  the  fog  on  every  side  to  detect  the  approach  of  danger 
And  this  is  well,  for  under  his  care  is  a  valuable  ship  with  costly 
cargo,  together  with  many  scores  of  human  lives.  What  an  example 
of  watchfulness.  How  easy  to  moralize.  Darkness  and  fog  are 
over  human  life  ever  league  of  our  voyage,  there  can  be  no  sense  of 
security,  no  promise  of  safety,  no  hope  of  making  our  haHen,  unless 
we  multiply  our  lookouts  on  the  bow,  on  the  deck,  on  the  foremast, 
and  on  the  bridge. 

Many  a  young  man  is  forging  ahead  with  the  breath  of  iceberg* 
on  his  brow,  with  fog  and  darkness  lying  on  his  course,  with  no  calm 
eye  peering  into  his  future.  If  he  shall  come  safely  to  a  desired 
port  it  will  be  a  miracle.  "Oh  !  I'll  come  out  all  right, "is  his  watch- 
word. Most  surely  do  we  hope  so,  but  this  is  a  great,  deep,  cruel 
sea  of  life  over  which  we  sail.  Young  man,  you  had  better  keep  a 
lookout  at  your  bow. 

"You  look  bad  this  morning"  said  the  big  fat   man    with    short 


A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  29 

sack  coat  and  ample  trousers  (why  will  fat  men  persist  in  wearing 
such  short  coats)  to  the  young,  well  dressed  man  at  his  side.  "You 
would  look  bad,  too,"  said  he,  "if  you  had  been  as  drunk  as  I  was 
last  night!"  I  saw  him  this  morning  in  the  smoking  saloon  playing 
poker  with  small  stakes  on  the  table.  "  Do  you  go  abroad  on  bus- 
iness?" said  a  man  to  him.  "  No  "  was  the  proud  reply,  "  I  don't 
have  to  travel  for  business  or  follow  any  occupation."  I  could  not 
help  thinking  of  his  father  and  mother,  whether  they  hid  saved  up 
money  with  this  end  in  view — whether  such  an  outcome  of  their  life's 
labor  would  please  them.  A  thousand  times  better  would  it  have 
been  had  they  turned  all  their  money  into  gold  and  sailed  out  here 
into  midocean,  and  in  the  name  of  their  son,  and  for  his  sake,  have 
thrown  it  as  a  cursed  thing  into  the  deep.  There  is  a  pitiable  mis- 
take here  that  is  being  repeated  constantly.  Every  boy,  as  we  say 
in  California,  should  be  required  to  rustle  for  himself,  especially 
those  who  show  a  disposition  to  spend  the  "governor's"  money. 
Hardworking  parents  naturally  desire  to  make  things  a  little  easier 
for  their  children,  to  which  end  they  dig  and  delve,  they  pinch  and 
save,  all  through  life.  Of  the  outside  world  they  know  almost 
nothing.  The  culture  and  enlargement  of  ideas  that  travel  brings 
they  deny  to  themselves,  because  they  think  that  they  cannot  afford 
it,  while  often  at  the  end  of  life  they  see  their  mistake  and  say  if  I 
had  to  do  it  over  I  should  act  differently.  A  good  education  and 
sound  moral  and  religious  training  are  every  child's  due.  When 
these  are  secured  then  there  should  be  a  generous  participation  by 
parents  and  children  alike  in  the  comforts  and  advantages  that  the 
family  purse  can  buy.  One  such  person  of  a  working  and  saving 
turn,  whose  money  has  never  given  her  the  advantages  it  ought, 
while  her  sons  have  used  and  misused  the  most  of  it,  said  to  me 
with  mournfulness  in  tone,  but  none  in  word  :  "  Frank,  take  the 
best,  it  is  all  in  a  lifetime."  And  I  believe  the  path  of  wisdom  for 
parents  lies  along  a  broad,  generous  provision  for  themselves,  and 
for  their  family  each  day  as  it  rolls  away,  with  a  prudent  eye  to 
oncoming  age,  and,  perhaps,  depleted  income.  The  sweet  joy  of 
using  money  for  good  purposes  in  charity,  or  for  the  spread  of  the 
gospel,  such  people  never  taste.  Sermons  setting  forth  such  needs 
are  "begging"  sermons,  a  term  dishonorable  alike  to  speaker  and 
hearer.  Money  given  by  such  is  too  often  like  throwing  a  joint  at 
the  head  of  a  hungry  dog  that  makes  him  yelp  with  pain  before  he 


30  A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 

can  get  his  dinner.  When  having  denied  oneself  the  pleasures 
and  advantages  that  money  can  secure,  when  having  Jost  the  oppor- 
tunity it  affords  to  do  good,  there  is  added  the  squandering  habits 
of  children  tending  to  their  destiuction — the  outcome  of  such  a  life 
of  toil  and  saving  is  mournful  in  the  extreme. 

A  very  comfortable  programme  for  a  day's  round  of  affairs  on 
shipboard  is  a  salt  water  bath  at  7  A.  M.,  hot,  luke  warm,  or  cold,  as 
one  fleets,  followed  by  a  brisk  walk  or  other  active  exercise  until  8 
o'clock.  Then  games,  walking,  reading,  chatting,  or  snoozing  on 
deck  in  reclining  chairs,  taking  a  cup  of  strong  beef  tea  about 
11:30  o'clock,  with  lunch  at  i  p.  M.  Then  after  lunch  nap  in  true 
navy  style,  followed  by  more  careful  toilet  and  exercise  until  dinner 
at  6  P.  M.  More  exercise,  etc.,  until  night  falls  then  to  the  dining 
saloon  for  music  or  books  or  writing  and  to  bed  at  a  right  early 
hour.  This  is  the  best  lay  out,  but  in  case  stress  of  weather  pre- 
vails then  do  the  best  you  can  regardless  of  order  or  ceremony. 
The  best  is  monotonous,  to  wait  is  unspeakable. 

From  the  dawn  of  literature  the  sea  has  been  prolific  of  symbols. 
Its  vastness  strikes  the  mind  of  the  beholder.  Eternity  is  a  sea, 
limitless,  fathomless,  engulfing.  A  Sabbath  school  teacher  in  Phil- 
adelphia toM  me  that  she  took  her  class  of  poor  children  to  see  the 
ocean.  One  little  girl  stood  and  looked  long,  while  her  little  breast 
heaved,  until  when  interrupted  by  the  question  what  she  thought  of  it, 
she  replied  :  "  Well,  mam,  its  the  first  time  in  my  life  that  I  ever 
had  enough  of  anything."  Its  solitariness,  so  lonely,  so  desolate, 
so  barren,  so  dreary,  is  painful  to  contemplate.  Apart  from  the 
habitations  of  man  it  lies,  hiding  deep  secrets  forever  in  its  ojvn 
keeping,  deep  answering  to  deep  in  endless  conversation  with  itself. 
The  voyagings  of  men  seem  like  intrusions  into  its  solitudes,  met 
by  tossings  and  tumblings  or,  in  angrier  moods,  by  awful  shipwreck. 
A  grim,  gloomy  hermit  is  the  sea,  an  ogre  not  pleasant  to  confront, 
nor  safe  to  offend.  Its  distress  awakens  wonder.  Why  is  it  so 
troubled,  why  does  it  never  rest,  why  does  it  moan  so  piteously,  why 
does  it  beat  so  distressfully  upon  the  sands,  why  in  its  deeper  soli- 
tudes apart  from  habitations  of  men,  does  it  shrink  and  wail  and 
burst  into  frantic  upheavals  of  passion  ?  The  heart  of  the  wicked 
man,  his  conscience,  "is  like  the  troubled  sea  that  cannot  rest,  but 
casts  up  mire  and  dirt."  Its  deceitfulness  is  proverbial.  How  it 
smiles  and  ripples  and  dances  and  lures.  Come  play  in  my  break- 


A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  31 

ers,  come  sail  over  my  billows,  so  freely  flowing,  so  smoothly  rolling, 
but  there  is  the  undertow,  that  like  a  giant  creature  wraps  its  mighty 
arms  about  one's  limbs  and  drags  us  down  to  death.  There  is  the 
sudden  squall,  the  outward  flowing  tide,  the  overturned  boat,  the 
floating  corpses.  Its  remorselessness  is  dreadful.  Pity  does  not 
dwell  in  its  bosom.  After  all  the  ships  it  has  swallowed 
down,  all  the  misery  it  has  caused  it  is  as  wicked  and  hard- 
ened as  ever  and  as  eager  for  havoc.  Beautiful  woman,  tender 
child,  alike  fail  to  awaken  sympathy.  And  yet  its  pureness  is  lau- 
ded, it  has  salt  in  itself,  it  ceaselessly  tosses  up  its  waters  to  the  sun 
that  his  beams  may  penetrate  and  clarify  them.  And  being  pure 
the  world  is  healthy.  A  putrid  sea  would  give  us  a  dead  world 
right  speedily.  Its  wisdom  too  is  confessed.  It  visits  every  land 
under  the  sun,  it  speaks  in  every  language  used  by  human  beings, 
tell  tale  rivers  and  brooks  from  every  deep  mountain  fastness  are 
pouring  into  its  ear  their  gossip.  Its  informants  come  whence 
human  foot  has  never  trodden.  And  from  the  ages  it  has  been 
gathering  up  its  stores  of '  knowledge.  How  it  laughs  as  it  looks 
back  to  the  beginning  of  the  race,  especially  to  man's  first  attempt 
to  navigate  its  waters.  How  the  tiny  shells  were  tossed  upon  its  bil- 
lows. How  it  can  tell  of  the  progress  of  invention  until  these  white 
winged  birds  of  commerce  began  to  skim  its  surface,  until  man 
made  iron  to  swim,  and  these  monster  steamers,  sharp  in  prow  and 
mighty  in  wheel,  began  to  people  its  fastnesses  with  human  beings 
passing  and  repassing  along  great  trackless  highways,  trackless  to  all 
eyes  save  the  needle's.  Arch  polygamist,  every  ship  launched  is  a 
new  wife  added  to  his  harem.  Every  ship  lost  is  a  wife  out  of  favor, 
given  over  to  the  executioner.  Miser  and  highwayman  combined, 
his  secret  treasure  houses  are  richer  than  those  of  Egypt  in  the  days 
of  Joseph.  I  like  him,  yet  I  like  him  not,  and  here,  with  white- 
caps  breaking  everywhere  abou:,  I  write  it  down,  in  his  fastness  and 
stronghold  of  pride  and  power,  I  like  him  not.  I  rejoice  in  the  vis- 
ion of  Daniel  that  far  as  his  eye  could  behold  "there  was  no  sea." 
I  thank  thee,  Daniel,  for  that  touch  upon  the  heavenly  canvas.  It 
seals  our  kinship. 

Sabbath  on  shipboard  is  perceptibly  a  different  day  from  the  other 
days  of  the  week.  The  necessary  working  of  the  ship  of  course 
goes  on,  but  more  of  quiet  rests  everywhere.  On  the  Alaska  at 
10:30  A.  M.  the  bells  toll  for  service,  and  all  who  are  thus  inclined 


32  A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 

retire  to  the  main  saloon,  where  the  captain,  or  in  his  absence  the 
purser,  reads  prayers.  No  sermon  is  allowed,  in  consequence  of 
past  troubles  arising  from  inability  to  please  all  parties.  In  the  eve- 
ning a  praise  service  closes  the  holy  day.  Church  going  people 
ought  to  remember  more  frequently  in  their  prayers  those  who  spend 
the  most  of  their  sabbaths  in  these  wilderness  regions. 

FRANCIS  A.  HORTON. 


LETTER  VII. 

CHESTER,  ENG.,  June  8,  1888. 

Quaint,  charming,  ancient  Chester,  how  all  our  first  love  awakens 
again  as  we  walk  its  narrow  streets!  Its  broken  gables,  its  tiled  chim- 
neys, its  houses  projecting  over  the  sidewalk,  its  ancient  wall,  its  cathe- 
dral, its  pleasing  suburbs  and  the  like,  they  greet  us  as  old  acquaint- 
ances. But  why  are  we  here,  we  whose  itinerary  requires  us  to  be 
in  a  jaunting  car  on  the  mountains  of  Kerry,  en  route  to  the  lakes 
of  Killarney?  Simply  because  the  cold  gray  mist  of  Scotland, 
sweeping  down,  made  it  impossible  for  us  to  land  at  Queenstown. 
Thus  for  more  than  an  hour  we  lay  off  that  rough  Irish  coast  in  the 
darkness,  and  cold  and  rain  blowing  for  the  lighter  to  come  off  for 
those  who  wished  to  land.  But  no  one  ventured  out  for  us,  and 
when  the  purser  strode  into  the  saloon  and  announced  that  the  ship 
would  steam  on  for  Liverpool  our  hearts  were  lightened  of  a  great 
burden  of  fear,  and  none  applauded  more  heartily  than  we  disap- 
pointed ones.  We  continued  to  Liverpool,  only  to  find  that  the 
same  stubborn  Scotch  adversary  had  belated  us  so  that  we  lost  the 
tide  and  could  not  cross  the  bar.  This  necessitated  a  sail  of  four- 
teen miles  in  a  tug  with  only  a  canvas  roof  over  our  heads  to  pro- 
tect us  from  the  "falling  weather"  and  the  rough,  cold  wind.  As 
one  remarked,  it  was  a  truly  formal  English  reception,  very  cold 
until  we  become  well  introduced.  Although  our  tickets  read 
"  weather  permitting,"  freeing  the  company  from  any  obligation  to 
do  more  than  land  us  at  Liverpool,  the  Guion  Company,  be  it  said 
to  their  lasting  credit,  generously  offered  to  send  all  the  disappointed 
Queenstown  passengers  back  to  Cork,  or  on  to  Dublin  as  they  pre- 
ferred. Not  being  able  to  spare  the  time  from  our  work  at  home  to 
double  on  our  track  to  reach  any  place,  we  accepted  an  order  for  a 


A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY.  33 

first-class  passage  to  Dublin  via  Holyhead,  and  as  Chester  lies  on 
the  line,  and  as  we  love  Chester,  and  as  we  are  not  specially  enam- 
ored of  Liverpool,  what  more  natural  than  that  we  should  stop  off 
at  this  point,  and  as  we  have  a  day  or  so  to  spare  out  of  our  south 
of  Ireland  itinerary,  where  could  we  better  spend  the  time  than  in 
agreeable  Chester  ?  So  here  we  are,  and  with  us  seventeen  more  of 
the  Alaska's  passengers,  including  all  but  one  of  the  Twilight 
Club. 

Now  we  must  tell  you  about  the  Twilight  Club,  for  being  only  an 
invited  guest  at  several  of  their  meetings  and  not  a  member  in  full 
standing,  we  may  be  able  to  say  more  than  a  full  Twilighter  would 
care  to  say  about  their  unique  organization.  The  first  horror  of  a 
sea  passage  centers  in  the  stomach.  That  passed  and  this  import- 
ant member,  more  obedient  than  Banquo's  ghost,  that  is  to  say,  being 
willing  to  stay  down,  the  next  horror  centers  in  the  brain,  in  inac- 
tivity resulting  in  a  distressing  ennui.  And  the  second  works  in 
the  interest  of  the  first,  for  oftentimes  something  that  engages  the 
thoughts  leads  one  to  forget  the  stomach — tides  over  qualms  of 
squeamishness  that  would  arise  if  thought  were  concentrated  upon 
present  condition  and  prospects.  Hence  good  sailors  among  the 
passengers  are  most  generally  persistent  readers.  A  group  of  bright, 
smart  folks  well  known  to  one  another,  formed  a  club  whose  object 
was  to  fight  ennui  without  saying  so  and,  in  general,  to  make  the  pass- 
age agreeable.  They  gave  up  the  day  to  hard  work  in  writing  poetry, 
wretched  or  otherwise,  most  generally  otherwise,  with  notable 
exceptions,  in  conjuring  up  ghost  stories,  some  of  which  would 
make  even  a  ghost  blush,  in  preparing  witticisms  and  other  such 
matters  as  fertile  brains  would  naturally  suggest,  and  at  the  hour  of 
twilight  they  met  to  read  their  productions.  They  had  a  scribe 
whose  minutes  were  very  witty  and  were  generally  disapproved.  It 
was  a  feast  of  sparkling  wit,  of  rippling  fun,  of  pleasant  railery,  knock- 
ing out  also  some  truly  meritorious  productions  in  prose  and  verse. 
This  in  the  rough.  We  throw  it  out  as  a  suggestion  to  intending 
passengers.  If  you  would  be  well  up  in  the  club  tuck  away  in  your 
satchel  the  choicest  fruits  of  the  scissors  for  use.  If  you  have  any 
doubts  about  the  most  approved  method  of  handling  this  instru- 
ment in  such  connection  call  on  the  city  editor  of  The  Tribune  who 
will  give  you  full  information  in  his  most  genial  manner. 

We  crossed  from  Liverpool  to  Birkenhead,  where  we  met  with 
3 


34  A    PASTOKAL   JOURNEY. 

the  usual  corrections  in  our  English.  First,  a  bright  young  Congre- 
gational clergyman  asked  the  way  to  the  railroad  depot,  and  was  met 
with  the  reply,  "I  suppose  it  is  the  station  you  are  speaking  of?" 
"  Yes,"  he  said  faintly,  as  he  began  to  collapse,  "  I  suppose  so."  Then 
another  of  the  party  fell  into  the  abyss  by  referring  to  the  baggage 
car,  and  was  instructed  regarding  the  luggage  van.  Then  we  all 
laughed  again.  Next  came  my  turn.  I  had  a  through  first-class 
ticket  to  Dublin  and  asked  whether  I  should  be  allowed  to  lay  off 
at  Chester.  I  was  told  that  I  might  break  at  Chester  if  I  wished. 
Then  the  laugh  was  on  me.  But  the  climax  came  when  a  culti- 
vated lady  who,  with  her  charming  daughter,  has  often  crossed  to 
this  side,  and  who  felt  perfectly  able  to  talk  baggage  in  America 
and  luggage  in  England,  told  us  how  she  had  become  confused, 
and  asked  the  inspector  a  question  concerning  her  "  buggage."  The 
smile  broadened  into  a  ripple,  the  ripple  into  a  laugh,  the  laugh 
into  a  roar,  the  roar  into  a  haw-haw,  in  which  she  took  a  prominent 
part.  The  run  down  was  made  in  company  with  one  of  those 
genial  Englishmen  whom  we  often  meet  when  traveling  here,  who 
cannot  be  at  too  much  pains  to  tell  you  every  matter  of  interest 
as  you  go  along.  From  him  we  learned  that  the  rainfall  has  been 
entirely  insufficient,  while  the  fog  has  been  excessive,  so  that  although 
everything  to  the  eye  is  green  the  ground  is  dry  as  dust  two  inches 
down.  It  has  since  rained  and  there  is  a  better  condition  of  things. 
The  country  is  looking  very  beautiful.  We  rode  out  to  Eaton  Hall, 
the  seat  of  the  Duke  of  Westminster,  and  along  the  roads  taken  in 
going  and  in  returning  the  pasture  was  deep  and  tender,  the  haw- 
thorn, white  and  red,  in  bloom,  wild  flowers  everywhere — a  most 
entrancing  scene.  This  duke,  by-the-bye,  is  worthy  of  mention. 
His  wealth  is  said  to  exceed  that  of  any  other  living  man.  The 
gentleman  above  referred  to,  born  and  reared  here,  stated  his 
income  as  probably  about  twenty- five  pounds  sterling  per  minute. 
This  dazed  me,  and  after  using  my  pencil  for  a  few  moments  I  got 
so  high  in  the  millions  in  effort  to  compute  his  annual  income  that 
I  left  off  figuring.  Others  hereabouts  confirm  the  same  statement. 
I  give  it  for  what  it  is  worth,  but  I  may  safely  say  that  His  Grace 
is  justified  in  being  somewhat  easy  in  mind  concerning  his  present 
and  prospective  financial  condition.  His  landed  estate  is  a  para- 
dise, some  six  miles  square,  with  comfortable  homes  for  his  tenantry 
and  household  officers  and  servants.  Red  and  fallow  deer,  rabbits, 


A    PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  35 

pheasants,  horses,  cows,  etc.,  abound.  His  celebrated  horse,  Ben- 
dorr,  cost,  it  is  said,  $90,000,  but  has  paid  for  himself  once  or 
twice  on  the  turf.  The  fee  of  one  shilling,  charged  to  keep  out 
the  rabble,  admits  to  his  ball,  except  as  to  the  private  apartments. 
Language,  time,  and  artistic  ability  fail  us  to  tell  of  the  variety, 
richness,  and  beauty  of  its  interior  from  the  mosaic  floors  of  the 
corridors  up  to  the  exquisite  wood  carving  of  the  ceilings,  or  of  its 
furnishings.  It  is  like  a  dazzling  dream  of  fairy  land.  The  hall 
was  originally  built  two  hundred  and  eight  years  ago,  but  has  been 
enlarged  and  improved  from  time  to  time  by  successive  owners. 
The  Duke  owns,  also,  a  large  portion  of  Chester,  including  the 
Grosvenor  Hall  and  the  Grosvenor  hotel,  where  he  is  now  stopping 
previous  to  going  to  London.  He  is  liberal  to  the  city.  In  many 
ways  he  promotes  its  interests  by  a  free  use  of  his  money,  as  e.  g., 
building  a  church  at  $150,000  cost,  and  paying  out  annually  ^800 
for  the  support  of  services  therein.  The  wisdom  of  allowing  such 
money  power  to  amass  in  the  hands  of  one  man  under  the  pro- 
visions of  government  is  a  grave  question.  It  is  caste  and  monopoly 
combined,  At  least  so  it  appears  to  the  American  mind.  But  let 
us  not  forget  that  our  own  problem  of  government  is  not  yet  half 
wrought  out  and  be  sparing  of  our  strictures. 

The  work  of  renovating  the  old  cathedral  is  progressing  slowly. 
When  one  looks  closely  to  see  what  is  being  done  the  sense  of 
regret  passes  largely  away.  The  first  thought  is  that  they  are  mak- 
ing a  modern  building  of  one  of  the  grandest  of  ancient  structures. 
But  this  is  not  so.  The  cathedral  dates  from  the  eleventh  century. 
Of  course  it  was  built  by  the  Roman  Catholics,  but  when  Henry 
VIII  established  the  Church  of  England  he  quickly  converted  it, 
with  others,  to  his  own  ideas.  As  the  centuries  passed  the  interior 
was  whitewashed  and  the  beauti  ul  woodwork  was  painted.  The 
effort  now  being  made  is  to  remove  the  whitewash  and  to  restore 
the  anicent  appearance  of  the  stone  and  to  paint  the  mason  work 
afresh.  Also  the  woodwork  has  been  taken  down  and  laboriously 
treated  to  remove  the  vandal  paint,  a  task  involving  great  expense. 
Thus  the  effort  is  to  make  the  edifice  more  ancient  rather  than 
more"  modern.  Dean  Howson's  grave  is  in  the  court,  surrounded 
by  grass  and  flowers.  All  biblical  students  look  with  respect  toward 
the  mound  under  which  he  lies.  To  him  this  work  of  restoration 
is  mainly  due.  Dean  Darby  read  morning  prayers  yesterday  in  the 


36  A    PASTORAL   JOURNEY. 

choir,  "  and  a  very  poor  reader  he  is,  too,"  said  the  garulous  old 
verger  as  full  of  suggestion  as  ever.  Thirteen  choir  boys  sweetly 
sang  responses  and  anthems  assisted  by  five  heavier  voices,  one 
basso  very  rich  and  deep.  These  five  were  "  small  guns  "  of  the 
cathedral,  according  to  the  same  spiritual  authority  before  quoted, 
who  also  added,  "  the  canons  reside  here  only  three  months  in  the 
year."  When  one  leans  up  against  one  of  these  old  columns,  or 
hides  behind  some  projection  and  in  the  shade  falling  round  him 
lets  the  mind  take  in  the  thought  of  seven  hundred  years,  and  as 
with  the  eyes  of  this  old  building  sees,  and  with  its  ears  hears,  the 
happenings  of  the  centuries  that  lie  between,  the  barbarities  and 
atrocities,  the  intrigues  and  jealousies,  the  superstitions  and  fanati- 
cisms, the  blood-red  tide  of  war  bridle  deep,  the  fretted  ceiling 
vanishes,  nave  and  aisles  and  choir  and  lady  chapel  and  crypt  and 
chapters  and  cloisters  all  become  one  transporting  chariot  of 
thought  carrying  him  back  down  the  troubled  yet  ever-improving 
past.  History  arises  and  shakes  off  the  dust  of  the  schoolroom,  it 
lives  and  breathes,  it  talks  to  us  eye  to  eye.  The  consciousness 
of  a  past  back  of  us  from  which  we  have  emerged  becomes  dis- 
tinct, our  generation  as  a  link  in  the  endless  chain,  as  inheriting 
the  past  and  endowing  the  future,  our  duty  to  make  our  impress 
for  good  on  the  race  as  it  moves  down  to  a  day  when  men  shall 
stand  by  the  monuments  of  our  hands  and  brains  and  strain  their 
ears  to  catch  the  sound  of  our  remote  times — all  this  comes  over 
us,  the  particular  man  falls  out  of  view,  man  only  is  seen — we 
thought  we  were  a  mountain,  we  find  that  we  are  only  a  seaside 
grain,  helping  to  make  up  the  great  beach  of  Humanity  upon  which 
the  ocean  of  time  forever  beats. 

Hawarden  House  and  Manor  are  objects  of  deep  interest  to  me 
and  to  every  American  as  being  the  home  of  Gladstone.  It  is  only 
seven  miles  out  of  Chester,  and  to  go  to  it  is  one  of  the  pleasant 
excursions  from  this  town.  It  is  a  place  full  of  grand  inspiration. 
The  spirit  of  the  man  fills  it  and  its  visitor  if  he  has  any  spiritual 
capacity.  Far  different  from  Eaton  Hall,  not  in  the  same  class,  it 
is  yet  as  much  above  the  ordinary  home  of  the  people  as  we  are  all 
happy  to  see  the  dear  old  man  elevated.  Not  the  grounds,  not  the 
buildings,  nothing  in  the  trappings  and  housings  here  are  great  and 
confer  their  titled,  inherited  greatness  on  a  man  who  may  himself 
lack  every  element  of  greatness,  but  the  MAN  here  is  greatness 


A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY.  37 

and  bestows  his  title  to  nobility  on  every  leaf  and  flower  and  book 
and  pet  that  he  gathers  round  his  home.  That  title  no  court  nor 
queen  has  in  keeping  nor  can  bestow,  nor  can  royalty  buy  and  wear 
it  themselves,  save  in  the  great  court  of  the  universe  in  exchange 
for  soul  worth,  mental,  spiritual,  moral  worth.  Here  sat  the  great 
man  when  in  moments  of  leisure  between  governmental  studies  he 
took  our  brilliant  American  infidel  between  the  thumb  and  fore- 
finger of  his  massive  intellect,  and  in  language  most  dignified,  and 
in  reasoning  most  clear,  rubbed  his  homogeneous  structure  into 
heterogeneous  confusion.  A  view  of  the  man  himself  makes  infidel- 
ity look  very  cheap.  See  that  massive  brow,  those  lines  of  thought 
and  equipose  of  judgment  that  lie  deep  cut  around  his  eyes  and 
along  his  forehead,  those  lines  of  determination  and  persistence 
about  his  mouth,  that  spirit  of  repose  and  devoutness  that  covers 
him  like  a  robe  and  well  fits  him  to  read  the  Scriptures  in  the 
Hawarden  Church,  of  which  his  son  is  rector,  as  he  always  does 
when  at  home  among  the  people  who  revere  him,  and  the  very  man 
himself  as  a  product  of  the  Bible  and  of  the  Christian  religion  is 
enough  to  refute  all  infidel  cavils,  whether  originating  on  English, 
French,  or  German  soil  and  echoed  in  America,  as  the  penny 
whistle  echoes  the  blaring  trumpet  or  as  the  sea  shell  imitates  the 
thunders  of  the  deep.  And  when  he  opens  his  lips  and  confesses 
Christ  and  declares  his  personal  faith  in  him  as  the  foundation 
stone  of  his  life  and  character,  and  when  we  stop  to  think  of  his 
mental  qualities  as  he  witnesses  to  the  faith,  of  his  research,  of  his 
varied  acquirements,  of  his  knowledge  of  men  ancient  and  modern, 
his  testimony  makes  the  antics  of  a  brilliant  but  infidel  genius,  its 
sacrilegious  caricatures,  its  audacious  blasphemies  to  appear  as  un- 
real, as  hideous,  as  ghoulish  as  the  midnight  carousals  of  witches, 
warlocks,  and  towzey-tykes  on  that  famous  night  when  "  Kirk  Allo- 
way  seemed  all  ableez."  Noble  Christian  man,  late  may  he  return 
to  heaven,  long  may  he  remain  on  earth,  the  foremost  citizen  in  the 
free  Republic  of  God. 

In  reaction  there  is  health  and  pleasure.  The  bow  must  be  un- 
strung, rest  must  follow  toil,  publicity  craves  retirement.  So  this 
great  man  whose  life  is  spent  among  the  noble  loves  to  seek  the 
simple,  quiet  ways  and  places  of  the  common  people.  We  learned 
of  a  "  Light  Cake  and  Muffin  Shop  "  in  town  where  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Gladstone  sometimes  go  for  a  quiet  lunch.  So  of  course  it  was 


38  A  PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 

quite  the  thing  for  us  to  encourage  the  light  cake  and  muffin  trade. 
After  some  search  we  found  the  place,  and  being  assured  by  the 
ladies  in  charge  that  they  often  served  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gladstone,  we 
sat  down  and  took  a  note  of  things.  It  is  on  Newgate  street,  which 
from  housewall  to  housewall  is  not  more  than  twenty  four  feet  wide 
at  this  point.  The  shop  is  down  from  the  street  five  stone  steps, 
well  worn  by  use ;  is  not  more  than  fifteen  feet  wide,  and  perhaps 
three  times  as  long  as  wide.  Directly  above  the  lowest  step  the 
ceiling  falls  several  feet  and  continues  throughout  at  this  height, which 
just  admits  of  a  tall  man  passing  under  erect.  To  the  left  of  the 
steps,  as  one  enters,  stands  a  counter,  which  is  covered  with  muffins 
and  light  griddle  cakes,  cold  and  ready  for  sale.  The  high  window 
in  front  is  supplied  also  with  a  shelf  of  them  in  view  of  passers-by. 
Near  by  the  end  of  the  counter  is  a  chimney  furnished  with  an 
iron  oven,  the  top  of  which  is  very  smooth  and  clean  and  capable 
of  holding  eight  cakes  at  a  time.  By  its  side  on  a  three-legged 
stool  is  an  earthen  bowl  of  several  gallons  capacity,  small  at  the 
base  and  wide  at  the  top  and  well  supplied  with  white  bubbling  bat- 
ter ready  for  use.  A  bright  fire  within  the  oven  indicates  that  we 
may  give  our  order  as  soon  as  we  please.  This  done,  includ- 
ing tea  and  light  cakes  hot  for  two,  we  sit  down  at  a  small  table, 
two  feet  wide  and  eight  feet  long,  covered  with  oilcloth  and  entirely 
empty.  On  either  side  a  long  bench  without  a  back,  and  on 
either  end  a  short  one  of  the  same  country  school-house  pattern. 
A  japanned  tray  is  produced  and  furnished  with  a  black  earthen- 
ware teapot  and  the  nicest  and  cleanest  of  cups  and  saucers,  with  a 
dainty  sugar-bowl  filled  with  cubes,  and  a  wee  cream-pitcher  full  to 
its  little  brim.  Now  business  begins.  The  tea  is  set  to  draw,  a 
ladle  of  batter  is  emptied  into  a  tin  cup  to  measure  it  accurately 
and  is  then  poured  upon  the  griddle.  Three  of  these  constitute 
the  size  of  an  order.  When  thoroughly  baked  one  is  placed  on  a 
hot  plate  and  generously  buttered,  then  another  on  the  top  of  the 
first,  accurately  adjusted  and  buttered,  then  with  care  the  third  is 
placed  on  the  others  and  buttered.  Then  the  fragrant  pile  is  care- 
fully divided  with  a  sharp  knife  from  the  center  to  the  circum- 
ference into  three  equal  segments,  so  that  we  have  nine  pieces, 
each  a  triangle  with  a  circular  rim.  The  whole  is  placed  before 
you,  you  pour  your  tea  while  waiting  for  knife  and  fork.  The 
cakes  are  growing  cool,  while  their  aroma  is  making  you  hot.  You 


A    PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  39 

give  a  gentle  hint,  and  quickly  learn  that  no  knife  nor  fork  is  used 
in  eating  the  cake,  the  ringers  being  quite  the  thing.  So  you  begin 
by  rolling  up  a  segment  and  take  a  bite,  and  find  that  it  works  well 
enough  after  all.  A  second  installment  of  three,  with  a  subsequent 
one  of  two  as  a  neat  finish,  proved  ample  for  a  lunch,  and  for  all 
these  with  two  cups  of  delicious  tea  each,  we  pay  down  the  sum  of 
one  and  six  and  go  on  our  way  rejoicing. 

Dear  old  Matthew  Henry,  who  wrote  the  best  and  longest  lived 
commentary  on  the  Old  Testament  extant,  sleeps  peacefully  here 
honored  by  a  monument.  In  the  Cathedral  sleeps  Pierson,  whose 
exposition  of  the  Apostles'  Creed  will  survive  until  the  general 
demolition.  In  the  Cathedral  square  lies  Howson,  whose  joint 
work  with  Conybeare  on  the  life  of  St.  Paul  is  matchless.  Near 
St.  John  Baptist  Church  are  the  rooms  where  DeQuincey  wrote  his 
immortal  works.  Yonder  is  the  old,  old  house  where  Keats 
scratched  his  screed  upon  the  window  pane  with  his  diamond,  when 
chagrined  because  the  clergy  refused  to  dine  with  him.  Here  are 
old  stone  ornaments  in  recent  years  discovered  where  Cromwell 
buried  them  when  he  broke  the  walls.  They  are  now  being  used 
in  repairing  it  from  time  to  time.  The  very  soil  is  full  of  inspira- 
tion. Here  lives  as  patron  saint  the  reputed  wealthiest  man  in  the 
world.  Here  certainly  lives,  as  a  townsman,  the  greatest  man  of  the 
present  generation,  take  him  for  all  in  all.  And  over  all  a  halo  of 
royalty  hangs,  for  the  Prince  of  Wales,  if  I  mistake  not,  is  Duke  of 
Chester.  Fain  would  we  stay  and  read  and  think  and  talk  \\ith 
men  whose  ancestors  carried  on  the  same  trade  with  themselves, 
perhaps  on  the  same  spot,  back,  back  of  no  one  knows  where.  But 
we  must  up  and  away. 

FRANCIS  A.  HORTON. 


40  A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY. 

LETTER  VIII. 

ON  THE  IRISH  SEA,  June  13,  1888. 

We  are  leaving  Ireland,  bound  for  Glasgow  and  the  north  country. 
It  is  now  10  o'clock  at  night,  but  the  long  tarrying  day  in  these 
regions  of  glorious  twilight  is  but  just  fading  quite  away.  The  sea 
is  peacefully  rocking  us  as  a  crooning  nurse  quiets  a  tired  child. 
The  new  moon  has  appeared  through  broken  and  flying  clouds. 
We  have  seen  it  over  the  right  shoulder,  and  have  devoutly  turned 
our  money,  but  it  is  a  rain  moon,  and  we  are  sorry,  for  thus  far  the 
six  weeks  of  our  absence  and  journeyings  have  been  passed  in  con- 
stant company  with  Jupiter  Pluvius.  Everywhere  it  has  rained, 
until  now  we  are  longing  for  the  company  of  earth-born  mortals 
who  have  not  so  many  fields  to  water.  But  to-night  everything  is 
serene  and  full  of  thought.  The  light  plays  entrancingly  upon  the 
waters;  the  many  lower  lights  are  burning,  some  steadily,  some 
flashing  at  intervals ;  the  high  chimneys  of  Belfast  have  dropped 
out  of  sight,  but  yonder  looms  up  in  the  twilight,  silent  and  grim, 
old  Carrickfergus  Castle  of  high  historic  renown.  Settling  down 
upon  the  horizon  to  the  south  are  two  dark  objects  ;  steamers  they 
are  that  lay  side  by  side  with  us  in  port  an  hour  ago,  that  sailed 
out  to  sea  with  us,  but  now  part  to  meet  no  more.  So  sailed  out 
into  life  a  merry  group  that  frolicked  erstwhile  upon  the  village 
green,  that  picnicked  merrily  with  the  girls  they  chose  on  holidays 
too  far  between,  and  one  sails  north  and  one  sails  west,  and  some 
have  met  with  storms  and  been  dismantled,  and  some  have  gone 
down  regretted,  all  widely  sundered  on  the  deep  sea  of  active  duty. 
God  grant  we  all  who  sail  to-day  may  at  last  tie  safely  up  in  blessed 
ports. 

Wife  and  I  are  taking  a  deal  of  comfort  in  the  consideration  that 
is  .shown  on  this  side  toward  dumb  creatures,  particularly  that  most 
serviceable  and  'most  abused  of  them  all,  the  horse.  Perhaps  we 
notice  it  the  more  as  the  room  we  occupied  in  an  hotel  at  Phila- 
delphia fronted  on  a  street  that  was  used  by  a  street  railway.  The 
slipping  of  the  horses  on  the  smooth  cobbles,  and  the  rattling  of 
their  hoofs  as  they  caught  themselves,  distressed  us  by  day  and 
awakened  us  at  night.  Passing  to  this  side  the  first  thing  we  noted, 
a  point  that  repeats  itself  everywhere  we  go,  is  the  change  in  this 


A    PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  41 

respect.  Large  horses  and  smaller  loads  is  the  order.  The  big 
Normandy  with  his  great  foot  and  his  shaggy  fetlock,  harnessed  in 
what  seems  at  first  sight  to  be  a  waste  of  leather,  handled  carefully 
by  men  who  often  walk  beside  the  load,  moves  along  briskly, 
but  with  no  appearance  of  being  distressed  or  over  urged.  In  Dublin 
we  saw  two  men  with  a  cart  moving  along  an  asphaltum  pavement 
and  with  a  shovel  liberally  sprinkling  coarse  sand  over  the  smooth 
surface.  It  was  raining  a  little  at  the  time  and  the  street  was 
slippery.  Upon  inquiry  we  learned  that  it  was  to  keep  the  horses 
from  falling. 

Later  on  we  saw  the  same  thing  being  done  by  a  street  tramcar 
company.  In  our  electric  country,  where  we  think  in  telegraphy 
and  talk  in  stenography,  where  we  turn  night  into  day  and  too  often 
forget  that  all  days  are  not  alike,  the  horses  suffer  with  the  men. 
The  servant  is  not  better  than  his  master,  and  so  the  master  insists 
upon  killing  both.  We  have  no  use  for  the  Norman,  we  want 
horses  that  can  skip.  They  must  be  small  to  stand  the  racket  that 
would  knock  a  heavy  horse  to  pieces.  The  same  hurry  to  get 
through  with  much  work  in  a  short  time  makes  the  drays  longer. 
The  discrimination  is  against  the  poor  horse  both  ways  and  so  our 
streets  are  full  of  pitiable  sights ;  but  whether  the  over-loaded,  over- 
driven men  or  the  horses  in  the  same  category  are  most  to  be  pitied 
it  is  hard  to  say.  No  one  man  is  to  blame  for  it.  Our  society  is  a 
Jehu,  and  it  drives  man  and  beast  so  that  nations  from  afar  know 
us  by  the  dust  of  our  wheels.  Is  it  in  the  nature  of  things  that  we 
shall  ever  learn  wisdom  in  these  matters  ?  It  came  over  me  very 
powerfully  last  Saturday  as  we  mounted  that  quaint  car  of  Ireland, 
the  jaunting  car,  and  road  out  into  Phoenix  Park  about  3  o'clock. 
This  vast  pleasure  ground  and  breathing  place  was  alive  with  people 
of  all  classes.  Here  in  one  section  tennis  games  prevailed,  then 
farther  on  cricket  matches  were  in  progress,  and  farther  on  still  the 
fleet  polo  ponies  and  their  daring  riders  were  chasing  the  ball  up 
and  down  the  grounds,  while  everywhere  over  the  turf  ladies  and 
gentlemen  were  galloping  at  full  speed,  or  driving  along  the  road- 
ways, while  others  were  spinning  on  the  fleet  bicycle.  It  is  safe  to 
presume  that  none  of  these  cared  to  take  Sunday  for  a  repetition. 

The  same  rush  and  jostle  for  money  that  kills  our  men  and 
our  horses  encroaches  on  our  Sunday,  and  if  cause  and  effect  could 
be  traced,  it  might  be  found  to  be  an  important  factor  in  many  a 
4 


42  A   PASTOKAL   JOURNEY. 

failure  and  perhaps  embezzlement.  The  impression  made  upon 
any  one  who  breathes  in  this  restful  atmosphere  is  well  summed  up 
in  the  words  of  the  philosopher  at  my  side,  who  said  :  "  I  have 
learned  a  lesson ;  when  I  get  home  I  mean  to  take  things  more 
quietly.  I  see  that  people  who  do  so  get  along  quite  as  well  as 
others,  live  longer,  and  have  a  better  time  all  the  way  through."  It 
is,  no  doubt,  true  that  Americans  are  the  hard  workers  of  the  world. 
It  is  equally  true  that  the  national  countenance  is  being  deeply 
seamed  with  lines  of  anxiety  and  eagerness  and  unrest.  We  act 
nervously,  as  though  we  were  hard  after  something,  bound  to  get  it, 
but  not  yet  in  full  possession,  Here  the  appearance  is  rather  that 
of  having  obtained  something,  being  glad  over  it,  and  of  getting  the 
best  out  of  one's  obtainment. 

The  jaunting  car,  by  the  way,  is  a  lineal  descendant  of  the 
ancient  low  back  car.  We  used  to  sing  an  Irish  ballad  when  I  was 
a  boy  about  "  Peggy  in  her  low  back  car,"  but  I  never  had  any  idea 
what  it  meant.  Now  I  find  that  the  low  back  car  was  an  ancient 
vehicle,  quite  the  high  toned  thing  in  its  day,  composed  of  a  roller 
in  place  of  wheels,  on  which  was  arranged  a  platform  with  a  single 
seat.  Modernized,  this  is  the  car  of  to-day.  To  the  uninitiated  it 
is  a  ride  on  the  ragged  edge,  a  cross  between  flying  and  falling  from 
a  roof,  and  if  we  have  a  spirited  horse  and  a  driver  with  a  fondness 
for  going  back  and  forth  over  the  car  tracks  and  as  near  to  the  pass- 
ing trains  as  possible,  the  exercise  contains  as  much  of  the  wild 
Irishman  as  one  is  likely  to  get  on  the  old  sod.  But  soon  one 
comes  to  like  them  and  appreciate  their  exceeding  convenience. 

While  mentioning  matters  of  somewhat  minor  importance,  it  will 
be  in  order  to  refer  to  the  mutton  chops  of  these  islands.  They 
are  among  the  most  delicious  of  viands.  We  must  sympathize  with 
the  Englishman  in  America  who  bewails  their  absence.  In  size 
they  are  as  large  nearly  as  the  small  porterhouse  steak.  They  are 
cut  thick  with  a  liberal  supply  of  fat.  They  are  thoroughly  cooked, 
yet  we  should  regard  them  as  underdone  at  home.  This  is  a  striking 
peculiarity.  They  were  thus  juicy,  and  in  taste  there  is  not  the 
slightest  suspicion  of  wool,  while  in  tenderness  they  rank  with  the 
tenderloin.  Remarking  these  facts  to  a  gentleman,  he  discoursed 
somehow  thus :  "  I  think  that  the  excellence  of  our  mutton  is  due 
to  our  climate.  We  have  almost  constant  dampness,  we  have  no 
scorching  heats  in  summer  to  dry  the  pasture,  and  no  piercing  colds 


A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  43 

in  winter  to  pinch  the  flocks,  so  that  our  grass  is  always  abundant 
and  tender  and  nourishing.  The  flocks  never  wander  in  search  of 
food ;  indeed,  our  fields  are  small,  so  that  there  is  no  opportunity 
for  them  to  stir  about  much.  They  are  quiet  and  contented,  and 
have  nothing  to  do  but  stand  still  and  grow  rapidly.  Thus  we 
secure  the  best  conditions,  and  to  these,  with  a  choice  breed  at  the 
start,  I  attribute  its  excellence."  Thinking  it  over,  I  believe  that 
he  has  the  right  of  it.  But  it  is  too  bad  that  we  lack  the  necessary 
conditions.  In  beef  they  confess  our  superiority,  also  in  trotting 
horses;  but  in  mutton  and  in  racers  they  claim  pre-eminence. 

Ireland  to-day  is  in  full  emerald  costume,  a  ride  over  any  of  her 
great  railways  being  a  panorama  of  pleasing  change.  I  do  not 
wonder  that  her  sons  and  daughters  love  her  ardently.  Despite  her 
many  troubles,  she  is  prosperous  as  a  whole,  and  this  fact  shows  the 
intrinsic  wealth  of  the  land.  When  the  long  wished  for  man  shall 
come  who  can  say  just  what  the  situation  demands  for  Ireland's 
highest  happiness  and  prosperity,  and  when  the  day  shall  come  on 
which  such  policy  shall  be  adopted,  she  will  at  once  spring  forward 
on  the  lines  of  all  useful  industries  and  take  an  honorable  place  in  the 
United  Kingdom.  Her  poverty-stricken  ones  appear  on  all  hands, 
and  while  those  who  know  them  better  perhaps  explain  the  case  to 
their  own  satisfaction,  it  strikes  a  stranger  most  mournfully.  Wages 
are  low,  and  we  are  told  that  living  is  low  too.  If  it  is  all  on  a 
plane  with  the  appearance  of  such  persons  on  the  best  streets,  it 
cannot  be  high.  Groups  of  happy  girls,  barefooted  and  with  shawls 
home  over  their  heads  are  not  more  mournful  in  what  they  suggest  of 
life  and  discomforts  than  in  the  fact  that  they  seem  to  think  nothing 
of  it,  regarding  it  as  a  finality,  while  the  others  accept  it  for  them  as 
a  matter  of  course.  Side  by  side  with  these  are  many  of  the  best 
men  and  women  the  world  can  show.  One  of  these  is  John  Hogg, 
a  flax  merchant  of  Belfast,  through  whose  courtesy  a  few  of  us  made 
a  most  interesting  visit  to  the  Brookfield  linen  works,  inspecting 
every  process  from  the  reception  of  the  raw  material  to  the  final 
folding  for  market.  We  shall  not  soon  forget  his  kindness  nor  lose 
the  mental  photograph  of  his  genial  face  as  we  took  it  at  our  part- 
ing at  the  quay.  I  would  give  half  a  crown  for  a  picture  of  the 
group  of  five  noisy  newsboys  who  stood  near  him  guying  a  lad  on 
the  upper  deck.  When  the  clock  on  that  interesting  day  struck 
twelve,  and  the  Brookfield  poured  out  its  2,500  operatives  into 


44  A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 

Crumlin  road  for  their  forty-five  minutes'  nooning,  it  was  a  literal 
sea  of  humanity,  representing  all  ages,  from  the  gray  haired  sire  to 
the  tender  child,  called  a  half-timer,  from  the  fact  that  they  work 
one  day  and  go  to  school  the  next  at  the  expense  of  the  company. 
We  found  that  wages  were  very  low.  We  were  told  that  living  was 
cheap  to  correspond.  But  we  fancy  it  was  cheap  not  from  the  low 
price  at  which  they  can  secure  what  our  American  workmen  pay 
more  for,  but  simply  because  they  don't  have  the  same  kind  nor 
amount  of  food  and  comforts.  Our  workmen  are  better  dressed, 
better  housed,  better  fed,  and  have  more  spare  money  for  holiday 
enjoyment  and  for  evening  entertainment.  No  doubt  America  is 
the  place  for  the  workingman,  and  whatever  tends  to  disarrange  our 
tariff  to  his  detriment  should  be  frowned  upon  and  voted  against 
by  every  man  of  brawn  and  by  every  man  of  sympathetic  heart. 
When  we  go  to  the  matter  of  getting  ahead  in  life  the  rule  applies 
to  all  classes  of  commoners.  A  distinguished  Scotch  clergyman  in 
the  United  States  told  me  that  he  did  not  care  to  revisit  his  native 
land  for  fear  of  being  tempted  to  remain,  and  that  would  be  so  bad 
for  his  boys.  God  bless  America !  the  country  for  the  man  who  has 
his  own  way  to  make  in  the  world. 

We  looked  in  upon  the  Irish  General  Assembly  now  in  session  at 
Belfast  This  has  always  been  a  remarkable  body  of  men.  It  is 
small  as  compared  with  the  Presbyterian  Church  I  represent,  but 
its  influence  upon  Ireland  has  been  and  still  is  very  great.  Dr. 
John  Hall,  of  New  York,  and  Dr.  John  S.  Mclntosh,  of  Philadel- 
phia, are  contributions  of  this  church  to  America  in  later  years. 
Irish  wit  played  all  over  their  discussions  of  grave  topics,  and  a  loud 
laugh  oft  repeated  was  not  deemed  disorderly.  The  lobby,  too, 
took  a  very  prominent  part  in  expressing  approbation  or  the  reverse 
of  sentiments  uttered  in  the  way  of  stamping  and  applauding.  This 
is  very  singular  to  us  across  the  water.  The  popular  favorites  were 
unmistakably  pointed  out  in  this  way.  The  rank  and  file  of  the 
people  are  intelligent.  They  freely  discuss  church  questions  and 
appreciate  a  good  point  as  soon  as  it  is  made.  They  attend  these 
meetings  to  such  numbers  that  an  admission  fee  is  charged  in  order 
to  prevent  going  and  coming  and  to  insure  better  order.  When  a 
man  pays  for  a  thing  he  wants  it.  They  go  to  get  the  arguments, 
and  are  silent  that  they  may  hear.  One  dear  brother  got  tangled  in 
his  fractions,  as  many  another  has  done  before  him.  He  was  elo- 


A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY.  45 

quently  advocating  systematic  beneficence,  and  spoke  of  the  growth 
of  the  idea  in  one's  own  experience  where  practiced.  He  cited  the 
case  of  a  friend  who  began  by  giving  one-tenth  of  his  income,  and 
became  so  filled  with  the  beauty  and  power  of  the  system  that  he 
was  not  content  to  bide  there,  but  went  on  leaping  far  beyond  those 
bounds,  and  finally  gave  one  hundreth.  The  merciless  laugh  of  the 
opposition  brought  him  to  his  senses,  and  he  clambered  upon  his 
feet  again  and  hobbled  on  in  pain  to  a  resting  place. 

The  intermediate  examinations  ordered  by  the  Government  are 
now  in  progress.  A  student  can  prosecute  his  work  under  any 
teacher  he  may  choose,  or  at  any  place  or  at  home,  provided  he  can 
pass  creditably  these  severe  examinations.  To  stimulate  exertion  to 
excel,  money  prizes  are  given  to  the  best  scholars.  One  young  lady 
of  a  family  where  we  passed  an  hour  or  two  took  a  ^60  prize  pay- 
able in  £20  instalments  for  three  years.  A  poor  clergyman  had 
two  sons,  who  were  fine  students,  who  paid  the  entire  expenses  of 
their  education  by  the  prize  money  they  earned.  This  money  is  the 
result  of  disestablishment.  It  went  formerly  to  appointed  favorites 
who  drew  large  salaries  and  did  little  or  no  work ;  now  it  is  dis- 
tributed according  to  merit  and  placed  where  it  will  do  some  good. 
Ulster  is  just  now  full  of  glee  over  the  fact  that  for  the  third  time 
in  the  last  ten  years  a  student  from  the  Belfast  institutions  has  taken 
the  senior  wrangler  in  the  mathematical  tripos  at  Cambridge.  The 
professors  are  jubilant,  especially  the  man  of  intricate  figures,  the 
people  are  proud,  the  newspapers  are  laudatory  and  boastful,  and 
the  undergraduates  are  getting  ready  for  a  grand  torchlight  pro- 
cession in  honor  of  the  victor  on  his  return,  and  the  chances  are 
that  he  will  have  a  ride  on  the  shoulders  of  enthusiastic  fellows. 

When  we  awake  the  Clyde  hammers  will  be  ringing  in  our  ears. 

FRANCIS  A.  HORTON. 


46  A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY. 

LETTER  IX. 

GLASGOW,  June  16,   1888. 

Hast  ever  sailed  on  Lomond,  the  beautiful,  among  the  Gram- 
pian sentinels  that  guard  enchanted  land  ?  Hast  ever  rambled  by 
the  roaring  falls  of  Snaid  or  galloped  through  Glen  Arklet,  along  by 
Arklet  Water,  or  looked  into  the  heaven  deep  mirror  of  Katrine 
and  seen  clouds  floating  numberless  fathoms  down  and  birds  wheel- 
ing their  flight  far  under  the  surface,  or  coached  through  bosky  dell 
and  wild  defile  past  Achray  and  Vennachar  and  frightened  the 
brown  hare  from  his  repose  along  Ben  Ledi's  heathery  moor  ?  No  ? 
Then  dream  of  it,  cherish  it  as  a  sweet  thought  lighting  up  your 
future,  count  it  among  the  rewards  to  which  hard  service  shall  fairly 
entitle  you.  Anticipation  will  not  lay  on  colors  that  experience  will 
need  to  tone  down.  You  cannot  anticipate  it,  it  will  come  upon 
you  from  new  sides,  it  will  break  over  you  with  unexpected  wealth, 
it  will  assault  you  where  your  guards  are  down  and  carry  away  cap- 
tive your  admiration  in  spite  of  you.  The  dream  itself  will  do  you 
good.  From  childhood  I  have  crossed  the  sea  but  always  at  night 
when  sleep  locked  up  slow  plodding  facts,  and  turned  loose  all  fairy 
fancies.  Through  labors  multiplied  and  privations  manifold  the 
dream  led  on,  a  comfort  and  a  stimulant,  beneficial  always.  And 
now  the  early  dream  has  been  for  years  a  fact  accomplished  and  it 
is  as  helpful  in  remembrance  as  it  was  in  fancy.  Repetition  rinds 
the  charm  unbroken,  a  -joy  forever.  If  you  have  made  this  round 
then  sure  I  am  you  promised  the  spirit  of  these  solitudes  that  when 
you  could  spare  the  time  you  would  return  and  linger  and  let  the 
soul  within  you  grow  big  by  communing  with  itself,  and  with  nature, 
in  its  wild  grandeur,  in  soft  beauty,  in  variety  and  extent,  as  here- 
abouts displayed.  Pluck  up  heart  and  hope,  all  you  my  young 
friends  of  slender  means,  there  is  much  in  this  world  worth  working 
for,  which  when  it  comes  to  you  will  be  all  the  sweeter  if  seasoned 
with  the  thought  I  have  earned  it  for  myself.  To  industry,  fru- 
gality, perseverance  and  personal  worth  all  bars  to  progress  are 
withdrawn. 

"But  the  grumbler  was  there,  with  his  nose  in  the  air.  And  where 
is  he  not,  and  where  was  he  ever  wanted  ?  Who  so  blind  as  not  to 
see  that  the  charm,  the  restfulness,  of  foreign  travel  lie  in  not  having 
things  as  one  has  been  accustomed  to  them.  When  foreign  lands 


A    PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  47 

become  like  our  own  then  we  may  as  well  stay  at  home.  Further- 
more, he  who  looks  carefully  into  things  generally  finds  that  there  is  a 
good  reason  why  certain  courses  were  adopted,  and  that  there  are 
equally  good  reasons  why  they  are  not  changed.  Certain  it  is  his 
complaints  will  never  change  time-honored  customs  nor  further  his 
own  comfort.  The  American  who  comes  away  here  is  not  discover- 
ing a  forgotten  land  that  has  drifted  off  on  the  tide  of  time  into 
unfrequented  solitudes,  outside  the  current  of  progress,  and  it  is  not 
well  for  him  to  assume  that  he  has.  Wise  men  fall  in  with  the  pre- 
vailing order  and  make  no  odious  comparisons,  and  enjoyed  them- 
selves immensely. 

The  Glasgow  International  Exhibition  is  in  full  blast,  and  holds 
out  the  promise  of  a  very  hard  day's  work  to  the  visitor  who  will 
examine  its  extensive  display.  The  usual  catalogue  is  presented, 
with  here  and  there  a  variation.  We  may  note  the  department 
devoted  to  the  Queen's  Jubilee  presents.  They  are  numerous  but 
very  disappointing.  In  themselves  they  are  totally  unworthy  of  so 
great  an  occasion.  But  we  need  to  look  at  them  only  as  vessels 
that  contained  a  precious  wealth  of  love  and  loyalty.  In  these  her 
heart  found  richness  ;  but  an  outsider  generally  jumps  to  the  con- 
clusion that  so  precious  a  cargo,  on  so  special  an  errand,  would 
have  been  carried  in  ships  of  oriental  magnificence.  But  many  of 
them  fall  to  the  level,  and  not  a  few  fall  below  the  level,  of  the  best 
wedding  presents  that  we  have  seen  displayed  in  Oakland.  Others 
are  costly — some  are  royal.  The  boat  in  which  Grace  Darling  per- 
formed her  brave  acts  attracted  much  attention.  I  should  scarcely 
regard  it  as  seaworthy  in  a  moderate  gale  when  compared  with 
more  modern  boats.  But  she  won  with  it  imperishable  renown. 
However,  few  remember  that  she  was  not  alone,  that  her  father  was 
with  her  and  was  in  command.  Nevertheless  she  was  a  brave  girl 
and  deserves  all  the  praise  that  has  been  lavished  upon  her.  What 
a  singular  thing  is  renown.  How  it  flees  from  those  who  pursue  it 
for  its  own  sake  and  comes  unbidden  to  those  who  never  think  of 
it.  And  how  little  we  know  what  work  or  action  is  to  last  forever 
and  keep  us  from  being  forgotten.  Most  things  are  improved  upon 
by  the  generations  succeeding  the  one  which  gave  them  birth,  but 
some  things  seem  to  have  been  born  perfect  at  the  start.  Thus, 
that  Jacquard  loom,  weaving  intricate  figures  in  lace  curtains,  even 
though  with  much  clatter  and  confusion,  has  undergone  a  vast 


48  A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY. 

amount  of  improving  in  the  application  of  the  Jacquard  idea,  but 
the  idea  is  the  same  now  as  three  hundred  years  ago,  or  was  it  not 
quite  so  long?  Then,  too,  the  antique  manner  of  ironing  and  put- 
ting a  finishing  gloss  upon  linen  fabrics  by  pounding  them  is  still  in 
vogue,  and  nothing  can  take  its  place.  It  is  about  all  one's  hear- 
ing is  worth  to  go  into  that  department  of  the  factory,  but  once  in 
the  whole  machine  consists  of  a  heavy  frame  supporting  a  large 
roller  some  eighteen  inches  in  diameter,  which  is  heavily  padded  by 
being  wound  round  and  round  with  linen  cloth.  The  fabric  is 
made  to  pass  over  this  roller,  when  heavy  wooden  mauls  are  dropped 
on  it  as  it  passes  the  center  line.  These  mauls  are  of  hard  wood, 
some  four  or  five  inches  square  and  about  four  feet  long.  They 
stand  on  end  side  by  side,  close  together,  the  whole  length  of  the 
bed  roller,  and  being  furnished  with  a  cleat  on  one  side,  they  are 
lifted  one  by  one  by  means  of  corresponding  cleats  inserted  spirally 
into  a  roller  properly  adjusted  and  revolving  rapidly.  Thus  they 
fall  with  a  wave-like  motion  from  end  to  end,  but  they  fall  hard  and 
rebound,  and  you  know  when  each  individual  one  of  the  many 
scores  comes  down.  It  is  a  sorf  of  roar  with  distinctness.  My  first 
thought  was  that  John  Chinaman  could  get  all  the  noise  here  that 
his  New  Year  festivities  require. 

On  Saturday  night  wife  and  I  took  a  walk  on  Argyle  street,  at  least 
we  edged,  and  elbowed,  and  crowded  our  way  along  through  more 
people  than  we  have  ever  encountered  on  any  street  on  an  ordinary 
occasion.  Almost  without  an  exception  they  were  of  the  poorer 
classes,  and  our  hearts  pitied  them.  So  many  of  them  were  drink- 
ing hard,  so  many  of  them  of  both  sexes  were  drunk,  so  many 
women  coaxing  their  husbands  home,  so  much  brutality  and  coarse- 
ness, so  many  rags,  so  many  hands  outstretched  for  alms,  so  many 
babies  in  arms,  and  in  such  arms,. so  dirty,  so  thin,  so  ragged.  "I 
belong  to  the  upper  ten,  the  upper  ten,  the  upper  ten,"  sings  one 
side  of  society  with  laugh  and  jollity,  and  "  I  belong  to  the  lower 
five,  the  lower  five,  the  lower  five,"  sings  another  side  through 
curses  and  tears  with  hunger  and  filth.  The  upper  despises  the 
lower,  the  lower  curses  the  higher.  Rotten  potatoes  in  the  cellar 
mean  diphtheria  and  death  in  the  parlor.  These  classes  that  fill  the 
low  grounds  will  make  their  baleful  influence  to  be  felt  upon  the 
high  grounds  when  occasion  ripens.  The  devil  is  prodding  them 
as  with  hot  irons  through  his  inflaming  drinks,  and  one  of  these 


A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  49 

days  we  shall  pay  the  cost  of  tampering  with  them.  On  the  other 
side  the  gospel  is  doing  what  it  can,  and  all  that  any  one  is  trying 
to  do,  to  remove  the  danger.  Fourteen  years  ago  the  Holy  Spirit, 
through  Mr.  Moody,  swept  this  city  with  a  mighty  revival.  He 
originated  the  Sunday  breakfast  for  the  poor  people  who  never  have 
a  hot  meal  throughout  the  week.  This  has  grown  into  a  wonderful 
work,  extending  from  city  to  city.  Last  Sunday  we  went  at  2  p.  M. 
to  Tent  Hall,  off  Saltmarket  street,  to  attend  the  children's  meeting 
and  see  them  at  their  dinner.  Making  ourselves  known,  the  general 
manager  took  us  into  the  regions  behind  the  scenes,  into  the  store- 
room and  into  the  kitchen.  There  we  saw  two  circular  boilers,  each 
filled  to  the  brim  with  boiled  rice  and  milk — twenty-six  gallons  of 
milk  in  each,  fresh  from  the  country  on  Sunday  morning,  ninety 
pounds  of  rice  by  actual  weight  in  each,  and  also  in  each  precisely 
twenty-eight  pounds  of  sugar.  This  was  deemed  sufficient  of  this 
food  to  supply  the  day's  demands,  but  that  there  might  be  no  dis- 
appointment to  any  a  surplus  quantity  stood  ready.  Beautiful  bread 
cut  into  suitable  portions  was  supplied  in  quantity.  Having  satisfied 
ourselves  hereabouts  we  went  into  the  main  hall,  and  being  seated 
on  the  platform,  looked  on  with  interest.  First  a  hymn  and  an 
earnest  prayer  by  manager  and  monitors  alone.  Then  the  doors 
were  opened,  and  in  came  the  throng,  some  fifteen  hundred  of  them, 
with  towzeled  heads,  ragged  garments,  three-fourths  of  the  girls 
with  bare  feet,  many  little  girls  with  smaller  brother  or  sister  in 
arms.  They  were  assorted  so  that  the  little  folks  were  on  the 
ground  floor,  those  larger  on  the  side  elevated  seats,  and  those  a 
little  larger  in  the  gallery  rows.  They  sang  with  a  will,  and  at  a  signal 
up  went  every  hand  to  be  inspected,  witn  the  promise  that  any  dirty 
one  should  be  sent  to  the  bathroom  at  once.  The  singing  was 
spirited,  and  responses  in  prayer  were  hearty,  and  attention  to  the 
lesson  for  the  day  was  close.  The  letters  from  those  who  were 
taking  their  two  weeks  in  the  country  at  the  expense  of  the  mission 
were  read  to  the  delight  of  the  mass.  Then  came  the  trucks  loaded 
with  cups  holding  a  pint  each  of  rice  and  milk,  and  with  bread  in 
abundance.  These  were  distributed  to  each  one  present,  and  were 
eagerly  devoured.  I  can  testify  from  actual  taste  that  the  lunch 
was  a  success.  In  the  cold  weather  rich  broth  is  substituted  for 
rice  and  milk.  It  was  a  sight  never  to  be  forgotten.  Saltmarket 
5treet  is  one  of  the  very  lowest  in  the  city,  and  the  influence  of  this 
5 


50  A    PASTORAL   JOURNEY. 

mission  is  very  salutary.  I  have  spoken  only  of  one  feature  of  the 
work ;  there  are  many  others.  It  is  supported  entirely  by  voluntary 
gifts,  and  they  never  have  lacked  means.  Thus,  on  last  Sabbath, 
a  gentleman  requested  the  privilege  of  paying  for  the  dinner,  cost- 
ing about  five  pounds  sterling. 

"Those  girls  behind  you  are  the  problem  we  have  to  deal  with," 
said  my  friend.  I  looked  and  saw  a  large  band  of  misses,  from 
twelve  to  fifteen  years  of  age,  who  were  coarse,  showing  low  origin, 
and,  I  infer,  seeking  low  company  themselves.  This  world  is  bad 
enough  now,  but  what  a  place  it  would  be  if  all  of  these  kind  offices, 
all  of  these  tender  sympathies,  born  of  and  inspired  by  the  gospel, 
were  withdrawn.  No  one  would  care  to  stay  long  in  it,  and  those 
whose  circumstances  were  such  that  they  could  stay  with  some  com- 
fort would  probably  be  assisted  out  of  it  by  less  highly  favored 
people.  The  future  problem  of  the  masses  is  an  immense  one.  It 
behooves  all  men  of  all  classes  to  put  away  selfishness  to  plan,  and 
execute  in  a  larger  spirit  of  brotherly  kindness. 

Stirling  and  vicinity  must  ever  be  a  center  of  attraction  to  the 
student  of  history.  It  never  looked  more  beautiful  than  now,  amid 
all  the  glories  of  these  early  summer  days.  We  do  not  speak  of 
the  dirty,  noisy  town,  but  of  its  historic  parts  and  of  its  rural  environ- 
ments. Barren  mountain,  wooded  hill,  fertile  plain,  sparkling 
stream,  they  never  were  more  charming.  Sweet-faced  Mary  is  win- 
ning her  way  to  the  better  heart  of  man  as  the  years  roll  by.  The 
din  of  the  old  strifes  has  died  away;  the  questions  then  up  are  not 
forward  now.  We  are  enjoying  the  fruits  of  those  struggles,  and 
forgetting  all,  as  we  forget  and  yet  remember  our  own  civil  strife ; 
we  are  coming  to  see  more  "the  fact  of  a  beautiful  woman,  born  in 
perilous  times,  surrounded  by  unprincipled  people,  educated  in  a 
false  and  bigoted  system,  making  the  mistakes  that  might  well  be 
looked  for  in  such  a  case,  and  at  last  atoning  terribly  by  the  loss  of 
her  own  head.  She  was  probably  the  most  beautiful  woman  who  ever 
lived,  and  the  most  to  be  pitied.  Her  spirit  fills  all  the  air  here- 
abouts ;  we  cannot  stir  without  coming  upon  something  that  reminds 
us  of  her  and  awakens  a  new  sigh  in  the  heart  over  her  misfortunes. 
Nor  was  she  alone.  Here  Douglas  fell  by  the  treacherous  hand  of 
his  sovereign,  under  whose  safe  conduct  he  retired  to  the  old  castle. 
Yonder  is  the  ghouling  hill  whereon  rolled  many  a  noble  head  that 
fell  under  sovereign  displeasure.  Through  what  throes  and  woes 


A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY.  51 

the  race  has  come  on  to  its  present  state.  What  horrid  old  bar- 
barians our  fathers  were.  We  have  little  to  be  proud  of  as  we  look 
back,  and  no  reason  to  be  discouraged  as  we  look  at  ourselves  and 
into  the  future. 

Dumbarton  Cathedral  yonder  is  of  great  interest  to  rne.  It  is 
supposed  to  be  the  seat  of  the  ancient  Culdees.  Yonder  on  the 
Clyde,  near  Bowling  bay,  can  still  be  seen  the  ruins  of  Douglas 
Castle  that  marks  the  beginning  of  the  old  Roman  wall  of  Hadrian, 
north  of  which  even  the  Roman  Empire  never  extended.  In  those 
wild  regions  the  pure  apostolic  succession  was  preserved,  together 
with  the  simple  worship  of  the  early  days,  and  here,  if  anywhere  in 
the  world,  the  boast  can  be  maintained,  with  valid  history  at  its 
back,  that  unbroken  succession  from  the  apostles  in  ordination  and 
service  can  be  found  among  these  Culdee  Presbyterians.  However, 
we  do  not  set  much  store  by  these  things.  We  leave  the  alphabet 
at  the  apostles'  command,  and  not  stopping  with  questions  such  as 
that  of  "the  laying  on  of  hands"  we  strive  to  "go  on  unto  per- 
fection." But  the  place  is  interesting  and  the  facts  are  true. 

Very  tender  and  complimentary  mention  was  made  in  the 
churches  on  Sunday  of  the  departed  German  Emperor.  He  is  held 
in  highest  esteem  for  his  manly,  personal  qualities,  as  well  as  for  his 
relations  by  marriage  to.  the  Queen.  The  map  of  Europe  has 
greatly  changed  since  the  day  when  the  London  papers  flamed  out 
against  his  betrothal  to  Victoria.  Then  they  declared  that  the 
Queen  was  sacrificing  her  daughter  to  a  poor  fellow  who  could  only 
hope  to  pick  up  a  living  by  services  he  might  render  to  the  Emperor 
of  Russia.  Since  that  day  Germany  has  gone  to  the  front,  and  the 
poor  mendicant  dies  the  Emperor  of  one  of  the  greatest  European 
powers  and  one  of  the  noblest  men  in  Europe.  It  is  quite  remarkable 
to  read  how  his  education  was  pushed  into  all  departments.  Enter- 
ing the  army  at  ten  years  of  age  ;  studying  language  and  literature 
under  the  first  scholars  of  the  land  as  tutors ;  entering  upon  army 
commissions  at  the  same  time  that  he  entered  the  university;  learn- 
ing to  do  stable  work  and  all  the  round  of  duty  required  of  the 
common  soldier,  that  he  might  know  how  to  sympathize  with,  and 
not  overwork,  his  men ;  learning  carpentering  and  bookbinding  as 
trades ;  to  come  into  sympathy  with  the  working  people  of  his 
Empire,  and  at  every  point  observing  the  strictest  discipline,  on  the 
old  Emperor's  motto,  that  to  command  one  must  know  how  to 


52  A  PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 

obey.  All  this  made  him  the  idol  of  the  old  man's  heart,  and  more 
than  ever  it  is  likely  that  the  son's  last  severe  and  hopeless  illness 
hastened  the  father's  departure.  May  God  keep  the  new  young 
Emperor  and  shield  him  from  the  mistake  of  Rehoboam,  in  choos- 
ing counselors  as  unwise  and  hotheaded  as  youth  itself  is  apt  to  be. 

FRANCIS  A.  HORTON. 


LETTER  X. 

EDINBURGH,  June  2oth,   1888. 

Many  tourists  make  a  mistake  in  not  visiting  the  beautiful  north- 
ern city  of  Inverness.  The  route  to  it  is  very  pleasant  and  the 
city  itself  is  worthy  of  attention.  Many  persons  have  not  the  time, 
as  they  think,  although  three  or  four  days  are  all  that  are  needed  to 
do  it  tolerably  well.  Others  prefer  the  continent  and  hasten  off 
there,  while  not  a  few  think  that  when  they  have  made  the  round  of 
the  lakes  and  taken  a  look  at  a  few  of  the  larger  cities,  that  then 
Scotland  has  no  more  to  offer.  Let  me  say  in  one  word,  that  he 
who  misses  this  trip  has  not  seen  Scotland.  The  tourist  leaves 
Glasgow  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  on  a  swift,  comfortable  side- 
wheel  steamer  and  runs  down  the  Clyde  to  Greenock.  This  sail  is 
always  attractive.  The  great  ship-building  works  are  in  full  view, 
the  docks  of  three  steamer  lines  in  the  American  trade  are  passed, 
beautiful  homes  on  the  banks  of  the  narrow  river  are  very  near,  the 
historic  remains,  the  celebrated  points,  the  cultivated  fields,  the 
busy  towns,  all  pass  in  review.  Then  the  run  is  made  through  the 
Kyles,  or  narrows,  of  Butte.  Round  the  island  the  ship  winds, 
often  being  closed  in  before  and  behind  by  high  hills,  leaving  it 
open  to  conjecture  where  the  course  will  open  out.  Grand  hills  rise 
one  behind  another,  with  still  others  seen  through  every  valley  in 
the  background,  piled  up  with  an  unstinted  hand.  Here  and  there 
landings  are  made  where  merry  picnic  parties  debark,  bent  on  a 
happy  day.  Then  the  run  is  made  for  the  opening  of  the  Crinan 
canal.  This  canal  was  cut  across  in  order  to  avoid  a  long  and 
dangerous  sail  around  the  Mull  of  Kintyre.  Upon  reaching  the 
canal  at  Ardishaig  a  change  is  made  to  a  cute  little  steamer  of  the 


A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY.  53 

most  approved  pattern  and  thoroughly  comfortable,  specially  built 
for  this  canal  service.  Away  she  speeds,  sometimes  embowered  in 
the  foilage  of  the  high  trees  on  both  banks,  sometimes  affording  an 
outlook  over  wide  reaches  of  plain  and  hillside,  ever  changing  the 
picture  with  every  bend  in  the  course.  The  nine  miles  passed 
another  change  puts  one  again  on  a  larger  steamer.  Now  an  arm 
of  the  Atlantic  ocean  is  crossed  which  leaves  no  one  in  doubt  as  to 
its  identity,  and  presently  before  us  opens  up  the  beautiful  bay  and 
quiet  city  of  Oban.  The  air  now  is  cool,  heavy  wraps  are  needed. 
The  traveler  is  conscious  of  his  progress  northward.  Here  at  six 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  he  lands,  and  some  twenty  hotels  bid  for 
his  patronage.  Oban  is  a  famous  summer  resort.  A  noble  wall  is 
built  along  the  entire  front  of  the  city,  on  which  is  a  smooth,  broad 
walk  of  concrete,  called  the  Esplanade,  furnished  with  seats,  while 
the  bay  in  front  is  studded  with  small  boats  of  all  descriptions,  in 
charge  of  skippers  ever  ready  to  do  you  service.  The  scene  is  rest- 
ful, the  air  is  full  of  health  and  vigor,  the  life  moving  about  is  very 
different  from  that  at  home.  The  day  has  exhausted  the  tourist's 
power  of  admiring,  and  so  he  just  sits  still  and  looks  on.  Mean- 
time, directly  in  front  the  sun  goes  down.  He  watches  it  sink, 
throwing  celestial  radiance  upon  cloud  and  water  and  houses,  and 
over  the  wild  wooded  hills  beyond,  looks  at  his  watch  and  finds  it  is 
9  o'clock,  with  at  least  three  hours  yet  of  daylight  for  those  who  care 
to  claim  it.  Rising  early,  he  takes  the  steamer  at  5:45  o'clock,  and 
precisely  at  the  advertised  moment  she  pulls  out  and  heads  north- 
ward. Yesterday  repeats  itself  to-day,  except  that  the  air  is  now 
too  cool  to  admit  of  sitting  in  the  open  with  comfort,  although  the 
sun  pours  down  without  an  intercepting  cloud. 

He  is  now  in  the  wild  Highlands.  On  every  side  are  monuments 
of  the  wars  of  clans.  All  day  long  he  will  sail  through  the  domains 
of  the  Campbells,  the  Camerons,  the  Mackintoshes,  the  Frasers, 
the  Monroes,  whose  ancestors  lived  mainly  by  robbing  one  another, 
or  died  fighting  deadly  battles  whenever  they  met.  At  the  foot  of 
Ben  Nevis,  Scotland's  highest  mountain,  he  takes  steamer  on  the 
Caledonian  canal  at  9  o'clock,  unless  he  prefers  to  stay  over  at  the 
Lochiel  Arms  and  make  the  ascent  of  the  mountain.  He  is  now 
sixty-four  miles  from  Inverness,  twenty-four  of  which  are  canal  and 
the  remainder  open  lochs.  History  and  poetry  come  rushing  into 
mind  as  familiar  names  are  spoken  or  read.  Snow-capped  mount- 


A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 

ains,  covered  lower  down  with  heather,  stand  around  him.  He 
draws  his  tartan  a  little  closer  about  him  as  he  paces  the  windy 
deck.  The  broom  and  whins  in  full  flower  light  up  the  banks  and 
fields  with  their  soft  yellow  blossoms;  shaggy,  small  long-horned 
cattle  and  sheep  whose  faces  seem  to  have  been  dipped  in  ink,  feed 
quietly  along.  Crofters'  cottages  and  proprietors'  mansions  dot  the 
hillside  or  adorn  the  lawns.  After  a  day  of  full  enjoyment  and  of 
broader  ideas  he  comes  in  view  of  Inverness  with  its  highly  culti- 
vated .  suburbs,  and  at  6  o'clock  crosses  the  gang-plank,  voting  the 
two  days'  excursion  one  never  to  be  forgotten,  in  no  one  least  thing 
to  be  regretted.  The  return  by  rail,  of  course,  can  be  done  in 
twenty-four  hours  to  London.  Such,  in  a  few  words  that  limp  and 
halt,  are  some  of  the  soul's  experiences  on  this  trip  northward.  Let 
no  one  omit  it  who  is  not  driven  to  do  so  by  dire  necessity. 

Inverness  is  a  city  of  18,000  inhabitants,  beautifully  situated  on 
rolling  ground,  with  the  river  Ness  running  through  the  center  of  it, 
which  is  spanned  by  two  or  more  free  suspension  bridges.  The  city 
is  mostly  built  of  stone,  and  is  very  solid.  It  is  the  chief  distributing 
center  of  this  wide  northern  country,  and  does  the  banking  for  a  con- 
siderable territory.  There  is  nothing  of  special  note  for  a  tourist  in 
the  place  itself  beyond  a  hundred  other  towns.  The  courthouse  and 
jail  are  built  in  the  form  of  a  castle  and  are  some  fifty  years  old, 
There  is  a  handsome  modern  cathedral.  There  is  a  most  charming 
walk  laid  out  with  care  on  an  island  in  the  Ness,  where  birds  abound 
and  lovers  walk,  and  all  is  shaded  and  quiet  and  rural.  There  is  a 
large  asylum  for  the  insane,  and  the  mournful  fact  appears  that 
there  are  some  seven  hundred  inmates.  They  are  to  a  great  extent 
hereditary  cases,  arising  from  inter-marriage.  For  example,  the 
Island  of  Lewis  is  attached  to  this  county.  A  gentleman  engaged 
in  the  tea  trade,  having  amassed  a  princely  fortune,  bought  the 
island  and  became  proprietor.  He  died,  but  his  wife  remains  there 
with  her  seat  at  Stornoway  as  proprietrix.  There  are  now  on  the 
island  some  18,000  people  who  marry  freely  among  their  own  relatives. 
From  this  island  many  cases  of  insanity  are  brought  over  to  the 
asylum,  I  am  informed. 

This  is  only  one  case.  This  whole  question  of  what  to  do  with 
the  cotters  and  surplus  crofters  is  pressing  upon  public  attention, 
Possibly  all  may  not  know  who  these  people  are.  For  their  sakes 
justify  me  against  any  charge  of  pedantry  if  I  explain  the  terms.  A 


A    PASTOKAL   JOURNEY.  55 

croft  is  a  small  bit  of  a  farm,  therefore  a  crofter  is  a  small  bit  of  a 
farmer.  But  the  land  he  lives  upon  belongs  to  a  proprietor,  so  that 
a  crofter  is  further  pretty  much  what  we  mean  by  a  squatter,  except 
that  he  squats  with  knowledge  of  the  proprietor  and  pays  rent  as 
long  as  he  stays.  He  has  a  very  few  acres  of  arable  land — say  four 
to  seven — which  he  cultivates.  His  food  is  oatmeal,  potatoes  and 
fish.  He  needs  but  little  money,  for  oatmeal  is  cheap,  his  potatoes 
he  is  supposed  to  raise,  and  he  can  have  all  the  fish  that  he  chooses 
to  catch.  Not  having  much  to  do  he  does  not  cultivate  the  habit 
of  doing  much,  and  upon,  the  whole  prefers  to  have  his  wife  do  it 
all.  Generally  she  manages  to  monopolize  the  activity  of  the 
family.  In  addition  to  the  arable  land,  certain  sheep  range  is 
granted.  A  whole  community  clubbing  together  have  one  flock 
to  occupy  the  range.  Formerly  the  arable  land  was,  in  common, 
laid  up  into  sections  with  the  plow.  Every  man  was  conscientious 
in  his  work,  for  the  sections  were  distributed  by  lot  after  being 
planted,  and  he  did  not  know,  in  case  he  slighted  his  work  of  culti- 
vating, but  that  he  might  draw  that  very  section.  But  now  this  is 
done  away  for  the  most  part.  So  much  for  the  squatter  farmer 
whose  lands  might  at  anytime  be  taken  back  by  the  proprietor  and 
he  left  to  squat  somewhere  else.  It  is  a  miserable  life  with  no 
outlook. 

The  cotter  is  still  worse  off.  He  may  be  a  son  of  the  crofter, 
who  has  become  a  man  and  has  married  a  wife,  and  has  no  place 
to  call  his  home.  His  father  permits  him  to  build  a  cottage  on  a 
corner  of  his  croft,  but  he  must  go  away  to  find  employment.  By- 
and-by  his  son  gets  married,  and  what  is  he  to  do  ?  This  question 
is  pressing  for  solution.  Riots  have  resulted  from  the  distressful 
condition  of  affairs.  Thousands  of  acres,  say  the  crofters,  are 
taken  up  for  deer  parks  and  hunting  grounds,  and  a  man  is  of  less 
value  than  a  deer  or  a  sheep  or  a  grouse.  God  made  us  and  gave 
us  a  home  here,  and  he  does  not  mean  us  to  starve  to  death.  So 
now  and  then  they  rise,  and  with  the  Bible  and  regular  devotions 
going  on  in  one  part  of  the  camp,  a  slain  deer  may  be  roasting  in 
another.  Not  long  ago  so  severe  an  outbreak  occurred  that  troops 
were  called  out  to  quell  the  disturbance.  Certain  it  is  that  the 
poor  fellows  have  sympathy  with  them.  The  proprietors,  on  the 
other  hand,  say  that  the  vast  deer  ranges  are  of  no  earthly  use  for  the 
crofters.  They  are  barren  moors,  say  they,  and  the  need  of  keep- 


56  A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY. 

ing  them  up  gives  employment  to  many  crofters  and  the  money 
made  out  of  them  is  expended  in  improvements  for  the  general 
benefit.  However  this  may  be  the  crofters  say  that  they  would  like 
a  chance  to  try ;  that  they  have  converted  thousands  of  acres  of  bar- 
ren moor  upon  which  they  were  allowed  to  settle  because  it  was 
barren  moor,  into  productive  soil,  subject  to  constantly  increased 
rentals,  with  finally  a  notice  to  leave.  They  think  that  they  could 
take  Winan's  immense  range  in  Rossbire  for  example — Winan,  the 
American,  who  owns  a  straight  hundred  miles  of  land  and  whose  son 
was  reported  upon  in  The  Northern  Chronicle  of  Inverness  yester- 
day as  being  a  wonderful  sportsman.  They  think  that  they  could  put 
his  land  to  better  use.  So  one  of  the  rich  proprietors  is  about  to  set 
out  for  Manitoba  in  August  next  to  see  what  opening  presents  itself 
there  for  the  occupancy  of  the  surplus  crofter  and  cotter  population. 
Thus  the  only  solution  to  the  question  now  being  considered  is 
emigration,  but  in  case  they  refuse  to  emigrate  the  question  will 
return  more  violently  than  ever.  Here,  again,  the  masses  loom  up 
and  demand  attention  jto  their  condition. 

I  have  been  traveling  for  a  couple  of  days  with  a  reporter  of  an 
Inverness  paper.  It  was  very  pleasant  to  meet  one  of  the  frater- 
nity. I  see  so  much  of  them  at  home  and  find  them  so  agreeable 
that  I  was  anxious  to  know  whether  the  prominent  traits  that  adorn 
and  magnify  the  knights  of  the  press  in  America  were  as  prominent 
here.  These  are  supposed  to  be  a  sharp  nose  to  pry  with,  a  pencil 
that  flies,  or  as  malignant  critics  say,  that  takes  off  its  "f"  when 
it  flies,  and  a  wing  of  powerful  stroke  to  span  the  wide  chasms 
between  the  known  and  reduce  all  mystery  to  a  dead  level  of 
history.  I  fancy  that  wherever  found  they  are  brothers  born.  A 
boy  was  running  along  the  tow-path  with  a  pail  of  milk  and  a  glass 
which  he  polished  on  his  coat  sleeve  from  time  to  time  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  passengers  who  were  supposed  to  use  it,  and  I  being 
somewhat  tired  of  the  dry  bread  and  foreign  cookery  in  general, 
thought  perhaps  the  milk  would  taste  like  home.  I  hailed  him,  and 
what  did  he  do  but  stare  and  grin.  I  hailed  him  again,  supposing 
that  he  misunderstood  me,  when  he  grinned  all  the  more.  Then 
my  reporter  friend  spoke  to  him  in  awful  gibberish,  when  over  went 
the  pail  and  up  came  the  brimming  glass  in  a  twinkle.  I  was  in 
the  land  of  the  Gael,  and  my  English  was  at  a  discount.  This  led  to 
some  questions  as  lo  his  powers  of  using  the  Gaelic  language.  He 


A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY.  57 

replied :  "  Yes,  you  understand,  I  am  working  on  a  proprietary  jour- 
nal, and  these  grumbling  crofters  hold  meetings,  the  purport  of 
which  we  ought  to  know.  So,  you  understand,  I  slip  down  and  do 
them  up." 

Like  all  reporters,  he  knows  all  the  clergy.  We  had  three  of  the 
local  cloth  on  board.  One  of  them  was  reading  from  a  white  cov- 
ered book,  and  the  second  was  laughing  until  his  eyes  were  tight 
shut.  He  went  straight  up  to  them  and  said,  "  Ah,  now,  and  do  I 
see  you  reading  a  white  back  book?"  They  made  some  explanation 
that  there  was  a  funny  story  in  it  about  a  friend,  when  he  turned 
away  and  said  to  me,  "  That  old  clerygyman  never  laughs.  He  is 
one  of  the  very  solemn  order.  They  read  no  novels,  little  else  than 
the  Bible,  and  draw  the  line  at  white  back  books.  It  does  me 
good  to  see  him  merry.  If  I  were  to  tell  my  old  mother  that  I  saw 
him  laugh  she'd  not  believe  me."  Another  clergyman  came  and 
sat  down  by  him  and  talked  pleasantly,  and  when  he  was  gone  he 
said  to  me,  "  That  man  got  married  and  went  on  his  tour.  A  gen- 
tleman opened  the  door  of  the  railway  carriage  where  he  was,  when 
he  waved  him  off,  saying,  '  Don't  come  away  in  this  ;  I'm  a  bride.'  " 
Verily  they  are  all  alike,  and  good  fellows,  too,  most  of  them, 
Only  my  friend  was  lately  married  and  had  been  to  London  on 
his  wedding  trip.  Herein  he  sets  a  good  example  to  all  of  his  asso- 
ciates. A  thousand  good  wishes  to  Ross,  of  the  Northern  Chronicle^ 
and  to  his  bonny  Scotch  bride. 

But  the  trip  to  Inverness  is  far  from  being  complete  in  the  north- 
ward journey.  There  now  remains  before  the  tourist  the  return 
by  rail  which  in  no  wise  falls  behind  that  up  by  steamer.  It  is  a 
long  ride,  but  not  in  the  least  tedious.  After  a  good  hearty  dinner 
at  the  Royal,  and  a  pleasant  farewell  to  the  proprietor,  Mr.  Christie, 
and  a  final  play  with  and  caress  to  his  beautiful  collie,  Sable,  the 
tourist  takes  his  seat  in  the  carriage,  and  at  three  o'clock  is  off  like 
the  wind  via  Perth  to  Edinburgh.  For  a  little  time  the  pull  is 
a  hard  one,  but  presently  the  descent  begins,  and  the  train  follows 
hard  upon  the  heels  of  the  engine.  There  is  an  exhilarating  sense 
of  gliding  down  hill  through  the  most  romantic  glens,  over  beautiful 
farms,  winding  among  hills  covered  with  verdure,  until  at  Pitlochry 
the  train  runs  along  the  edge  of  a  wild  ravine  where  the  scenery 
culminates.  At  about  ten  o'clock  the  train  halts  at  the  Waverly 
station,  Edinburgh,  and  the  never-to-be-forgotten  tour  ends. 
6 


58  A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY. 

Of  the  city  of  Edinburgh  and  its  famous  buildings  I  shall  say 
nothing,  for  all  the  world  comes  to  Edinburgh.  All  the  world 
admires  Edinburgh,  and  all  the  world  is  wise  in  so  doing.  No 
Scotchman  dies  happily  unless  he  has  visited  this  Mecca  of  his  race. 
The  city  is  as  clean  as  the  marble  steps  of  a  Quaker  residence  in 
Philadelphia ;  it  is  as  orderly  as  a  prayer  meeting ;  it  is  as  stiff  and 
prim  as  a  maid  of  uncertain  continuance,  a  circumstance  intended 
to  be  highly  complimentary  to  both.  Scott's  monument  still  stands 
forth  one  of  the  first  in  the  \sorld ;  Princes  street  is  as  attractive  as 
ever ;  the  Cairngorn  pebbles  work  up  as  witchingly  as  ever  into  jew- 
elry and  possess  the  unrivalled  power  to  render  feminine  beholders 
temporarily  insane ;  the  clan  tartans  in  plaids  and  rugs  overcome 
the  gentlemen,  and  the  knee  breeches  and  heavy  plaid  stockings 
brings  to  light  the  callow  American.  The  Cathedral  never  looked 
so  massive  and  imposing  as  to-day  from  the  front  windows  of  the 
Palace  Hotel.  Of  all  these,  as  well  as  of  Hollyrood  and  of  St. 
Giles,  and  of  all  the  rest,  men  have  written  and  subscribers  have 
read  to  their  full  satisfaction.  Let  it  be  ours  to  glean  between  the 
rows.  Perhaps  we  may  find  as  much  of  the  true  life  of  the  country  and 
of  the  interesting  incident  of  travel  there  as  elsewhere.  Now,  for 
example,  I  do  not  remember  ever  to  have  read  of  a  disease  that 
attacts  tourists  frequently.  However,  I  have  met  the  victims  often. 
They  seem  to  be  ashamed  of  it.  Nor  did  I  know  how  badly  it 
takes  hold  of  one  until  I  had  an  attack  myself.  I  may  call  it  the 
"  Clean  strap."  It  comes  on,  for  example,  when  a  man  finds  him- 
self in  a  small  city  where  the  pretty  things  have  taken  his  last  half 
crown  and  the  only  bank  politely  hands  back  his  letter  of  credit, 
regretting,  etc.  Nothing  dismayed,  he  offers  currency  of  the  land 
of  the  Stars  and  Stripes  in  payment  of  his  fare  elsewhere,  but  finds 
that  the  booking  clerk  at  the  station  does  not  appreciate  the  Amer- 
ican Eagle  at  his  full  feather.  Then  the  tourist's  feathers  begin  to 
droop,  and  he  to  wonder  what  he  is  to  do.  Stay  he  cannot,  for 
that  will  be  deceiving  the  landlord  of  his  hotel  -}  to  walk  he  is  not 
inclined  ;  to  beg  he  is  not  accustomed.  Happy  is  the  patient  if 
he  can  convalesce  as  did  a  couple  I  could  tell  of,  who,  having 
emptied  all  pockets  and  pooled  all  issues  down  to  the  last  copper 
baubee,  found  they  could  manage  to  squeeze  humbly  into  Edin- 
burgh third  class.  For  evermore,  blessed  be  third-class  wagons. 
Now  ask  your  friend,  lately  returned,  whether  I  have  not  him  in 

mind. 

FRANCIS  A.  HORTON. 


1  PASTORAL  JOURNEY.  59 

LETTER  XI. 

WlNDERMERE,  June  30,   1 888. 

The  Esk  flows  sweetly  on  through  the  deeply-wooded  glen,  but 
Roslyn,  the  castle  of  the  St.  Glairs,  is  a  moldering  ruin.  The  old 
yew  at  its  side,  with  seven  hundred  years  of  growth,  is  green  from 
ground  to  tip,  and  will  no  doubt  live  on  for  centuries  to  come.  But 
year  by  year  the  tooth  of  time  gnaws  into  the  ancient  pile.  The 
mevis  returns  each  season  to  warble  with  ravishing  sweetness, 
hidden  among  its  leafy  trees  or  in  gorgeous  ivy,  but  no  hand 
rolls  back  the  crumbling  tide  that  is  sweeping  man's  work  away. 
Yet  in  its  day  what  pride  and  pomp  and  power  were  here.  In  those 
times  outside  of  castle  walls  there  was  no  safety,  inside  was  abso- 
lute dictatorship.  In  kingly  state  Earl  William  held  his  court  on 
this  overhanging  crag.  Dizzy  grows  the  brain  as  one  looks  over  the 
bridge  of  stone,  with  hip-high  coping  on  each  side,  by  which  it  is 
approached,  into  the  Esk  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  below.  Did 
ever  in  those  wars  fierce  foemen  grapple  here  and  seek  to  crowd 
each  other  over  into  that  horrible  abyss?  Proud  lords  waited  on 
Earl  William's  will  to  manage  his  household  and  to  superintend  his 
table  and  the  like.  °  Queenly  ladies  of  good  degree,  seventy-five  in 
number,  attended  upon  the  baroness.  In  this  damp,  dirty  old  vault, 
musty  and  disgusting,  was  their  bakery,  the  oven  and  chimney  still 
seen.  Below  it,  in  another  musty  vault,  was  the  oven  for  their 
meats,  which  were  served  on  vessels  of  gold  and  silver.  Rude  in 
its  material  expression,  the  pride  of  the  heart  was  full  blown  then  as 
now.  The  castle  gate  has  fallen,  but  the  wall  on  one  side  and  a 
portion  of  the  arch  are  still  standing.  Perhaps  the  victors  Hertford 
or  Monk  broke  it  thus  many  years  ago.  The  stalls  for  the  chargers 
to  the  right  of  the  gate  within  still  stand  unroofed,  but  the  keep, 
the  dungeon,  is  broken  and  exposes  the  circular  staircase  along 
which  the  condemned  of  his  lordship  went  to  languish.  In  proof 
of  the  power  and  pride  of  the  house  of  St.  Clair  stands  on  the 
premises  Roslyn  Chapel,  the  especial  gem  of  ornamented  gothic 
architecture  founded  by  Sir  William.  It  was  never  completed,  only 
the  chancel  and  part  of  a  transept  being  built.  These  are  a  study 
both  within  and  without.  The  great  variety  of  designs  is  bewilder- 
ing, there  being  no  duplication  in  detail.  The  high  vault  of  the 


60  A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 

nave,  in  shape  the  pointed  arch,  is  divided  into  five  parts,  each 
studded  with  flowers  in  stone,  yet  no  two  divisions  are  alike.  There 
are  thirteen  varieties  of  the  arch  in  the  building.  No  two  foliated 
capitals  are  the  same.  The  twelve  pedestals  on  which  once  stood 
the  apostles  are  each  of  separate  design.  The  profusion  of  ex- 
quisite stone  carving  about  the  altar  is  great.  The  three  columns 
in  front  of  what  now  is  the  altar,  but  which  was  intended  originally 
for  confessional  boxes,  are  unlike.  One  is  wound  with  pomegranate 
without  fruit;  another  is  fluted;  the  third  is  a  pattern  figure.  Of 
course  it  was  all  done  for  pride  and  piety  combined.  The  barons 
were  all  buried  under  the  floor ;  old  Sir  William,  without  coffin  or 
shroud,  was  laid  down  in  full  armor.  Walter  Scott  has  immortalized 
the  chapel;  and  Drummond,  whose  home  was  hard  by  in  this  same 
glen  of  the  Esk,  has  sung  its  praises.  One  can  well  see  how  the 
minstrel's  soul  would  swell  and  his  hand  would  grasp  his  harp, 
or  pen,  as  he  sat  amid  these  surroundings  and  let  the  past  roll  over 
him.  Musty  old  stone  heaps,  they  need  a  soul  in  the  beholder  to 
interpret  them ;  then  they  grow  young  again,  and  full  of  deepest 
interest. 

Come  with  me,  ye  who  love  to  dream  of  the  past  (and  who  with 
a  soul  does  not),  and  let  us  go  for  a  day-dream  up  into  the  castle 
here  in  Edinburgh.  Roslyn  out  yonder  on  the  Esk,  seven  miles 
from  town,  is  of  yesterday  beside  the  antiquity  with  which  we  shall 
surround  ourselves.  That  cannot  go  beyond  the  eleventh  century. 
This  no  man  can  get  behind,  it  is  lost  in  antiquity.  Here  then  is  a 
range  for  imagination's  mightiest  wing.  Get  up  and  lean  against 
Mons  Meg,  the  famous  cannon,  made  of  bars  of  malleable  iron  run- 
ning longitudinally  with  rings  of  the  same  material,  sprung  on,  and 
dating  back  at  least  four  hundred  years.  Thus  we  are  leaning 
against  Old  Antiquity  to  start  with.  America  drops  out  of  sight  as 
we  look  at  Meg.  When  she  first  spoke  Columbus  was  begging 
ships  to  hunt  for  bigger  countries  than  he  had  in  mind.  Glance 
over  Meg  and  let  the  eye  fall  on  St.  Margaret's  Chapel,  then  Meg 
falls  out  of  sight.  One  thousand  and  eighty  A.  D.  What  a  leap  ! 
Eight  hundred  years  backward  from  to-day ;  and  those  walls  in  part 
and  that  interior  arch  complete  of  carved  stone,  have  stood  through 
all  these  centuries  and  have  watched  the  pen  of  history  making  its 
long-drawn  records.  Back  of  this  chapel,  in  its  place  in  time, 
comes  the  record  of  the  considerable  town  of  Edinburgh  as  early  as 


A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY.  61 

eight  hundred   and   fifty-four.     Back  of  the  town   in   time  was,  of 
course,  the  original  castle  stronghold,  no  doubt  correctly  asserted  to 
reach  into  the  period  of  the  Saxon  heptarchy.    It  was  only  as  people 
dared  to  venture  that  cities  grew  up  around  the  strongholds.     The 
old  Greeks   had  their  Acropolis,  with  houses  about  the  foot  from 
which    the   people  could   run   into   the  strong  tower  when  danger 
threatened.     The  writer  of  the  Proverbs  makes  the  same  references. 
Thus  out  of  the  dim  past,  and  following  its  ideas,  we  see  arising 
this  ancient  castle,  on  the  top  of  this  inaccessible  hill,  beyond  the 
reach   of  catapult   or   battering  ram,  and  a   sheer  thousand   years 
above   the  date  of  gunpowder.     By  time,  by  fire,  by  vandal  hand, 
the   old   has  dropped  piecemeal  away,  the  new  has  come  into  its 
place,  the  location  ever  the  same,  the  identity  preserved,  but  chang- 
ing in  detail.     We  see  it  in  its  loneliness — grim,  threatening,  in  that 
early  morning  of  the  Christian  era.     The  air  is  chill  with  cruelty, 
lawlessness,  and  rapine.     There  was  no  safety  within  the  range  of 
jealousy,  below  it  there  was  none  save  in  vassal  submission.      Time 
rolls,  manners  soften,   and  law  grows  respectable,  then  the  castle 
gates  open  and  the  city  begins  to  grow  on  Castle  Hill.     Then  on 
comes  Holyrood  yonder,  with  the  ruined  abbey,  whose  roof  has 
been  down  for  fully  two  hundred  years.     Then  about  Canongate 
the  city  grew.     Little  by  little  we  unroll  the  map  and  see  the  city 
expand  under  our  eye.     Finally  the  valley  is  passed  and  the  new 
city  comes  in,  until  now  about  this  mother  castle,  whose    "top  is 
bald  with   dry  antiquity,"  the  daughter  city   lies   200,000  strong. 
And  what  men  and  women  her  census  has  enrolled.    What  warriors, 
what  statesmen,  what  jurists,  what  preachers,  what  reformers,  what 
scholars  and  writers.     There  is  more  brain  in  Scotland's  soil  than 
the  combined  world  has  in  action  to-day.     What  martyr  blood  has 
drenched  her  acreage;  what  beasts  like  Claverhouse  and  bloody 
Mackenzie  have  ravined  among  her  chosen  ;  what  horrors  of  cruelty 
have  been  performed.     Let  us  arrest  the  dream,  it  will  end  in  night- 
mare, and  we  shall  start  afTrighted  as  though  we  heard  the  hoofs  of 
Claverhouse's  troopers  and  saw  the  black*"  Maiden"  embracing  us 
with  her  long  arms  and  dropping  her  sharp  blade  to  kiss  our  necks. 
To  drink  in  these  inspirations,  to  cause  the  edges  of  our  historic 
ideas  to  become  clean  cut,  to  provoke  to  more  full  and  careful  study, 
are  some  of  the  advantages  of  travel.     Parents  who  can  afford   it 
can  do  no  better  thing  for  their  studious  children  than  spend  an 


62  A  PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 

occasional  vacation  in  this  sort  of  object  teaching  For  the  lazy 
boys  and  girls,  of  course,  let  no  provision  be  made. 

What  loss  the  world  would  sustain  were  all  its  ancient  church- 
yards done  away.  To  many  they  contain  nothing  but  bones  and 
stones  and  unpleasant  reminders.  But  to  those  who  take  in  human 
life  in  its  fullness,  as  continuing  beyond  the  tomb  (the  best  of  it 
lying  beyond  to  those  who  live  best  here),  it  becomes  a  vnst  picture 
gallery,  only  in  the  reverse  order  of  the  usual  experience,  for  in 
them  we  hare  the  paintings  without  the  catalogue,  but  here  we  have 
the  catalogue,  and  memory  or  biography  must  needs  supply  the 
likeness.  In  the  midst  of  the  roar  of  life  about  Parliament  House 
square,  Edinburgh,  when  one  stumbles  on  that  iron  brick  in  the 
pavement,  about  eighteen  inches  square,  inscribed  simply  with  two 
raised  capitals,  I.  K.,  and  realizes  that  underneath  lies  the  bones  of 
John  Knox,  the  vision  springs  forth  at  once  of  that  man  of  whom 
Regent  Morton  said  he  never  feared  the  face  of  clay  of  that  faithful 
witness  who  minced  not  the  truth  even  for  the  sake  of  Mary  ;  who 
preached  with  such  soul  intensity  that  one  of  his  hearers  said  it 
seemed  as  though  he  would  dash  his  pulpit  "  a'  to  blads  ";  who 
loved  Scotland  so  that  in  his  prayer  he  cried  to  God,  "  Give  me 
Scotland  or  I  die !"  To  read  these  facts  is  one  thing,  but  to  come 
in  contact  with  the  very  places  that  knew  them  last  is  far  another. 

Grey  Friars  is  replete  with  blood-curdling  history.  No  picture 
gallery  in  Europe  can  so  stir  the  soul.  Westminster  Abbey  is  alive 
with  the  most  distinguished  company  to  be  found  on  earth.  Let  us 
adhere  to  the  sweet,  natural  method  of  caring  for  our  bodies  when 
the  soul  lays  them  down  as  no  longer  needed.  The  contrast  of  this 
has  been  haunting  me  for  days,  ever  since  I  examined  at  Glasgow, 
in  the  Bombay  department  of  the  exhibition,  the  Indian  Tower  of 
Silence.  I  have  wondered  whether  I  ought  to  write  to  you  about  it, 
but  it  seems  to  come  in  properly  just  here.  It  consists  of  a  very 
high  wall  in  the  form  of  a  circle,  having  a  very  considerable  diame- 
ter, all,  of  course,  open  to  the  heavens.  About  half  way  up  on  one 
side  the  wall  is  pierced  for  a  doorway  that  is  reached  by  steps.  No 
one  enters  the  tower  save  the  dead  and  those  who  minister  to  them. 
At  the  foot  of  ^he  stairs  all  relatives  take  final  leave  and  turn  away. 
The  door  opens  upon  an  inclined  floor,  sloping  toward  the  center  and 
terminating  in  a  circular  well  of  large  size.  Side  by  side,  as  closely 
as  they  can  be  cut  in  the  stone  floor,  all  around  next  to  the  wall,  with 


A    PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  63 

their  feet  pointing  toward  the  well,  are  excavations  large  enough  to 
hold  a  full  grown  man,  and  a  few  inches  deep,  with  a  valley  cut 
from  the  foot  emptying  into  a  drain  that  runs  to  the  well.  Inside 
these  a  circle  of  the  same  number,  but  smaller  in  size,  graduated 
according  to  the  narrowing  circle  for  the  bodies  of  women,  and 
inside  these,  close  around  the  well,  a  row  of  the  smallest  size  for 
children.  When  a  body  is  received  it  is  stripped  entirely  naked 
according  to  the  word,  "  Naked  came  I  into  the  world  and  naked 
shall  I  go  out  of  it,"  and  laid  in  one  of  these  receptacles.  In  a 
few  hours  the  vultures,  which  hover  about  this  feeding  ground, 
have  removed  every  particle  of  flesh,  and  the  tropical  sun  and  rains 
finish  the  work.  The  bones  are  then  thrown  into  the  well — king 
and  peasant  alike,  rich  and  poor,  according  to  the  word,  "  They 
shall  lie  down  alike  in  the  dust."  Three  openings  lead  from  the 
well  by  means  of  drains  to  the  outer  soil.  The  whole  conception  is 
horrible  in  the  extreme,  and  is  one  of  the  outgrowths  of  heathenism. 
Earth  and  fire  being  sacred,  the  body  may  neither  be  buried  nor 
burned,  for  in  so  doing  these  holy  elements  would  be  polluted.  The 
more  widely  we  look  abroad  on  the  earth  the  more  we  find  reason 
to  be  thankful  for  our  home  in  Christian  America,  and  the  less  we 
are  inclined  to  copy  the  manners  and  customs  of  antiquity.  The 
world  is  growing  better  every  day.  Let  our  faces  be  toward  the 
future  and  not  toward  the  past. 

We  have  been  rambling  through  the  home  of  Walter  Scott  at 
Abbottsford  on  the  Tweed.  What  a  modern  pre-Raphaelite  he  was. 
How  he  wrought  to  the  last  degree  of  faithfulness.  I  have  seen 
artists  of  this  school  at  work.  Every  leaf  had  to  be  an  exact  copy 
of  the  leaf  before  the  eye.  A  leaf  was  not  a  leaf  to  them — it  must 
be  this  leaf,  and  the  tendril  must  have  the  exact  number  of  curls,  etc. 
One  of  them  had  all  of  his  furniture  made  by  a  joiner  at  great 
expense  that  there  might  be  no  seeming  but  all  reality,  the  tenons 
must  pass  through  the  mortices,  not  go  half  way  through  with  a  cap 
on  the  other  side  to  simulate,  and  so  forth.  So  Sir  Walter  seemed 
to  work.  He  put  himself  in  contact  with  the  things  he  was  writing 
about  and  he  was  faithful  to  nature.  Hence  the  origin  of  his  armory 
full  of  all  queer,  quaint,  interesting,  rare,  and  horrid  things.  When 
he  wanted  to  describe  an  old  gun,  or  pike,  or  key,  or  thumb-screw,  he 
took  the  article  down,  and  like  the  artist  with  his  leaf  and  tendril 
he  described  it  exactly  and  minutely.  This  is  a  charming  idea,  yet 


64  A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY. 

one  whose  execution  calls  for  patient  and  pains-taking  labor.  In 
literature  such  men  make  sure  of  their  facts,  not  in  the  main  but  in 
the  fractions;  in  theology  they  deal  with  exact  statements.  And 
the  result  in  every  case  is  work  that  must  and  will  abide.  His  love 
for  Roslyn  Chapel  and  Melrose  Abbey  is  seen  in  the  very  many 
copies  he  has  made  from  them  in  the  wood  carving  of  his  house. 
The  grotesque  figureheads  were  reproduced  in  ceiling  and  corbel  in 
great  numbers.  He  stands  high  in  Scotland  both  literally  and  figu- 
ratively. The  latter  in  every  mind  and  heart,  the  former  in  St. 
George's  square,  Glasgow,  where  he  surmounts  an  elevated  shaft, 
while  far  down  below  him  on  one  side  is  an  equestrian  statue  of  the 
Queen,  and  on  the  other  side  is  an  equestrian  statue  of  the  Prince 
Imperial  Consort.  Thus  at  the  last  reckoning  intellect  is  king, 
while  prince,  queen  and  people  gladly  do  it  homage. 

Leaving  Melrose  we  turned  aside  into  the  wonderful  lakeland  of 
England,  the  most  charming  of  all  places  in  the  kingdom.  Moun- 
tains standing  round  on  every  side,  of  course,  make  valleys  and  in 
these  lakes  have  formed  in  great  number  with  lovely,  quiet,  recesses 
suitable  for  study  and  meditation,  or  for  rest  to  a  tired  brain.  At 
Keswick  we  come  upon  Southey.  Around  Windermere  we  find  the 
walks  of  Wordsworth  ;  we  see  the  fields  through  which  he  tramped, 
crooning  aloud  some  new  poem  as  he  shaped  and  reshaped  it  in  his 
mind,  which  the  farmers  described  as  his  "  booing  to  himself"  as 
he  walked  along.  There  is  a  path  to  a  rock  on  the  shores  of 
the  lake.  Climb  it  and  you  will  see  it  is  the  poet's  idea  of  its 
chiefest  point  of  beauty.  Here,  too,  is  the  house  of  Harriet  Mar- 
tineau,  like  all  the  others  built  of  cold  gray  stone.  Here  lived  and 
died  Hartley  Coleridge  in  the  old  house  by  the  way.  Up  that  glen 
is  the  residence  of  Doctor  Arnold,  late  master  of  Rugby.  No  won- 
der they  came  to  settle  here.  The  quiet  that  literary  people  love, 
the  close  heart  contact  with  nature,  the  cliffs  to  challenge  a  climber's 
muscle,  the  woodland  to  evoke  thought,  the  waters  for  dreamy, 
floating  and  reverie,  all  are  here,  and  the  birds,  oh  !  the  wonderful 
birds,  the  thrush  singing  like  the  leader  of  nature's  choir ;  the  lark, 
heaven  high,  sending  melody  down,  they,  too,  are  here.  No  won- 
der that  a  lover  of  birds  whom  I  know  wished  she  had  a  cage  as 
big  as  a  forest  and  had  them  all  in  it  with  barrels  and  barrels  of 
cracked  wheat  to  make  them  evermore  happy.  Most  heartily  do  I 
commend  this  lake  region  to  solicitous  wives  who  see  their  husbands 


A    PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  65 

running  down  and  the  day  nearing  when  they  must  perforce  go  away 
somewhere.  You  cannot  go  amiss  of  a  quiet  home  in  an  hotel,  or  in 
more  private  apartments,  if  desired.  The  whole  region  is  given  up 
to  entertaining  guests  from  abroad.  Coaches  with  four-in-hand  run 
daily  at  various  hours  between  Bowness  and  Keswick,  through  Win- 
dermere,  Grasmere,  Ambleside,  Rydal,  and  other  villages,  while 
side  excursions  can  be  made  in  the  same  way  to  Buttermere,  to  see 
how  the  waters  come  down  from  Lodore,  and  to  other  points  of 
interest.  Heavy  shoes,  loose,  easy  flannel  sack  coat  and  trousers,  and 
an  equally  simple  rig  for  the  ladies,  does  for  the  most  of  the  time, 
or  a  tennis  suit,  if  you  play,  will  answer,  and  no  criticism  will  be 
passed  upon  you  by  any  one,  You  come  to  rest,  and  you  get  what 
you  come  for. 

The  architecture  of  these  islands  might  be  greatly  improved  by 
some  of  our  American  architects.  Its  prevailing  characteristic  is 
heaviness  and  coldness.  These  elegant  lawns  and  charming  nooks 
and  sightly  knolls  offer  a  premium  for  a  tasteful,  bright,  cheery 
house.  But  they  are  not  met  with.  Now  and  then  some  one 
breaks  rank  as  far  as  he  dares,  and  the  change  is  welcome  to  an 
American  accustomed  to  the  prettiest  cottages  and  mansions  in  the 
world.  In  Edinburgh,  for  example,  the  sensation  is  that  of  walking 
in  a  chilly  corridor.  The  streets  are  paved  with  stone  blocks, 
the  sidewalks  are  stone,  the  front  porches  are  stone,  the  walls 
are  stone,  and  all  of  one  color,  from  the  center  of  the  street 
to  the  top  of  the  house.  The  doors  are  massive  and  cold,  and 
dignified  with  their  polished  brass  knockers  and  plates ;  there 
is  nothing  to  warm  them  up.  Here  and  there  a  red  curtain  over 
the  front  door,  in  place  of  the  usual  plaster  figure,  and  red  cur- 
tains at  the  window  impart  warmth,  so  that  one  draws  near  to  such 
a  house  instinctively.  Here  in  this  charming  district,  which  by 
its  very  character  calls  for  pretty  girls  with  white  dresses  and 
colored  sashes,  with  all  that  beautiful  variety  of  cottage  that  can 
be  found  on  the  New  Jersey  coast  or  in  California,  the  houses  are 
all  stone,  slatestone  at  that,  of  all  uneven  widths,  laid  up  in  mortar, 
but  the  mortar  is  so  far  in  as  not  to  appear  to  the  casual  observer, 
giving  an  appearance  of  haste  and  instability,  like  a  stone  fence 
about  a  sheep  pasture. 

In  fact,  take  it  all  through,  we  think  America  a  good  place  to  live, 
while  enjoying  the  old  countries  for  a  time.  Said  a  well-traveled 
7 


66  A    PASTORAL   JOURNEY. 

Englishman  on  a  coach  to  us:  "You  do  make  awfully  good  cakes 
in  America."  "  What  kind  ?"  was  the  reply.  "  Oh  !  five  or  six  kinds  ; 
I  could  eat  a  whole  one  now."  "  And,"  he  went  on  to  say,  "  you 
do  have  a  great  many  handsome  women  in  America."  We  assented, 
of  course,  and  thought  more  than  we  cared  to  express.  The  deli- 
cacy, refinement,  and  general  attractiveness  of  our  American  ladies 
are  not  easily  duplicated  in  any  land  we  have  gone  through. 

Hotel  registers  begin  to  show  more  of  the  names  of  delegates  to 
the  Pan  Presbyterian  Council  as  we  get  nearer  to  the  great  city 
where  the  meeting  is  to  be  held  that  called  us  over.  We  hope  to 
be  as  diligent  in  the  hard  work  upon  us  there  as  in  filling  in  this 
enforced  period  of  waiting.  After  that  is  over  we  shall  hasten  home 
via  Bremen,  passing  through  the  great  and  attractive  cities  on  the 
way.  The  good  ship  Eider  will  carry  us  safely  through,  we  trust. 

FRANCIS  A.  HORTON. 


LETTER  XII. 

LONDON,  July  n,  1888. 

How  shall  I  write  to  you  about  the  great  Pan  Presbyterian 
Council?  Shall  I  give  you  the  actual  facts  and  be  regarded  possibly 
as  boasting,  or  shall  I  suppress  them  and  go  roundabout  the  sub- 
jects, giving  incidents  and  impressions,  thus  feeding  you  with  the 
manna  that  falls  round  about  the  camp?  I  cannot  believe  that  you 
desire  less  than  the  facts,  and  I  can  easily  believe  that  all  will  rejoice 
with  us  in  the  mighty  power  and  wide  reach  that  we  have  secured 
among  the  nations  of  the  earth  for  the  cause  of  truth  and  righteous- 
ness. I  had  no  idea  of  the  state  of  the  case  myself,  and  I  am  sure 
that  others  less  intimately  associated  with  our  faith  and  order  will  be 
even  more  surprised  than  I. 

With  indefatigable  labor  Rev.  G.  D.  Matthews,  D.D.,  of  Quebec, 
Canada,  convener  of  the  Committee  on  Statistics  for  the  Council, 
has  collected  and  arranged  a  mass  of  facts  and  figures,  filling  300 
printed  pages.  These  are  reliable  data  on  Presbyterian  matters, 
and  the  only  full  and  orderly  compilation  extant.  Of  course,  there- 
fore, it  is  an  exceedingly  valuable  book  to  any  man  interested  in 
statistics,  and  can  be  procured  by  addressing  him  as  above  and 


A  PASTOftAL  JOURNEY.  67 

Remitting  one  shilling — i.  e.,  twenty-four  cents — and  about  six  cents 
more  for  postage.  Speaking  by  this  book,  as  well  as  by  the  roll  of 
this  present  council,  which  we  have  heard  called  and  responded  to 
by  the  living  delegates,  there  are  representatives  of  twenty-six 
organized  church  bodies  holding  the  Presbyterian  system  on  the 
European  continent.  These  comprise  383  presbyteries  or  classes, 
with  4,844  pastoral  charges  and  over  470,000  communicants.  The 
wide  diffusion  is  quite  remarkable,  and  to  me  was  a  genuine  surprise. 
They  are  found  in  Austria,  Bohemia,  Moravia,  Hungary,  Belgium, 
France,  Germany,  Hanover,  Greece,  Italy,  the  Netherlands,  Fries- 
land,  Poland,  Lithuania,  Spain,  and  Switzerland. 

Passing  to  the  United  Kingdom,  we  have  twelve  organized  bodies, 
giving  a  total  of  presbyteries  in  the  British  churches  in  England, 
Ireland,  Scotland,  and  Wales  of  292,  with  over  5,000  pastoral 
charges  arid  more  than  1,250,000  communicants.  Passing  to  Asia, 
we  have  three  organized  bodies  in  Persia,  Japan,  and  Ceylon, 
having  ten  presbyteries,  126  pastoral  charges  and  over  10,000  com- 
municants. Passing  to  Africa,  we  have  eight  organized  bodies,  with 
sixteen  presbyteries,  223  pastoral  charges  and  over  54,000  commu- 
nicants. Passing  to  America,  we  call  the  roll  of  eighteen  organized 
bodies  with  653  presbyteries  or  classes,  14,893  pastoral  charges,  and 
1,562,000  communicants.  These  are  all  in  Canada  and  the  United 
States.  Passing  on  to  Australia  we  enumerate  eight  organized 
bodies  with  forty  presbyteries,  1,142  separate  congregations,  and 
31,639  communicants.  Passing  on  to  New  Zealand  we  have  two 
organized  bodies,  with  thirteen  presbyteries,  481  separate  congrega- 
tions, and  18,622  communicants.  Passing  on  to  the  West  Indies 
we  have  one  organized  body,  the  Presbyterian  Church  of  Jamaica, 
with  four  presbyteries,  forty-six  pastoral  charges  and  8,977  commu- 
nicants. To  sum  it  up  we  enroll  78  organized  bodies,  with  1,392 
presbyteries,  25,689  pastoral  charges,  27,996  separate  congregations, 
3,448,225  communicants,  and  2,879,721  Sunday  school  attendance. 

It  will  be  noticed  that,  take  the  world  around,  the  number  of 
communicants  is  in  excess  of  the  number  of  Sunday  school  attend- 
ants by  over  half  a  million.  In  the  American  churches  the  com- 
municants are  1,562,000,  and  the  Sunday  school  attendance  is 
1,446,390.  It  will  be  interesting  to  know  whether  this  fact  holds 
true  in  the  case  of  each  of  the  other  bodies,  and  it  will  be  profitable 
to  discuss  the  question  whether  this  is  giving  a  good  account  of  all 


63  A  PASTORAL 

the  children  in  our  land.  In  addition  to  these  organized  bodies 
there  is  a  very  long  roll  of  what  are  called  the  Diaspora,  or  dis- 
persed churches.  We  have  been  so  much  under  the  harrow  of 
persecution  that  the  seed  has  been  scattered  and  covered  under  in 
many  of  the  out  of  the  way  places  of  the  earth.  In  all  the  lands 
named,  and  in  almost  every  land  that  can  be  named,  are  separate 
congregations  of  Presbyterians  provided  with  place  of  worship  and 
pastor.  Hundreds  of  such  have  reported  to  the  Alliance,  which  is 
the  only  body  with  which  they  have  any  connection,  and  through 
which  they  will  be  brought  into  the  closest  sympathy  and  co- 
operation with  the  great  body.  The  final  estimate  of  the  numbers 
of  our  order  on  the  face  of  the  earth  is  above  4,000,000  of  com- 
municants, and  not  less  than  20,000,000  of  adherents. 

To  sit  in  council  with  brethren  thus  gathered  together  from  the 
ends  of  the  earth,  to  look  into  their  faces  and  note  the  strong 
national  traits;  to  hear  them  speak,  either  in  their  own  tongues  or 
in  broken  English,  and  utter  the  same  sentiments  and  declare  the 
same  experiences  common  to  Presbyterians  everywhere,  is  like  the 
sitting  down  in  our  Father's  kingdom,  where  all  who  love  the  Lord 
Jesus  in  sincerity,  from  every  land  and  of  every  name,  shall  come 
home,  the  organized  bodies  and  the  men  and  women  of  the  disper- 
sion who,  for  various  reasons,  have  not  joined  any  church  body, 
but  are  for  all  that  the  Master's;  all  declaring  one  great  love  to  Him 
who  loved  and  died  for  all.  Here  it  is  the  man  speaking  and  the 
sentiments  expressed  that  are  considered,  with  not  one  thought  of 
what  end  of  the  earth  he  comes  from,  nor  with  what  body  he  stands 
connected.  How  like  that  which  is  in  store  for  us  by  and  by. 

I  knew,  of  course,  that  wherever  our  church  goes  she  fosters 
education,  but  the  array  of  our  literary  institutions  upon  earth  is 
imposing  beyond  my  expectation.  Pass  our  colleges  and  literary 
schools  and  note  particularly  the  list  of  theological  seminaries. 
Beginning  with  Austria  we  have  the  Imperial  Royal  Evangelical 
Theological  Faculty  in  the  University  of  Vienna,  consisting  of  six 
professors  maintained  by  the  State.  In  Hungary  we  have  the 
College  at  Saros  Patak,  with  seven  professors,  who  claim  to  lead  in 
all  free  inquiry  and  liberal  ideas ;  the  College  of  Debreczen,  dating 
back  to  the  Reformation,  having  725  students  and  ten  professors  in 
the  theological  faculty ;  the  College  of  Nagy-Enyed  with  six  theo- 
logical professors ;  the  Academy  of  Papa  with  six  theological  pro- 


A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY.  69 

fessors;  and  the  Academy  of  Buda-Pesth  with  the  same  number  of 
men  in  the  theological  faculty.  Well  done  for  Hungary.  In  France 
we  have  "the  Faculty  of  Protestant  Theology"  in  the  University 
of  France,  the  nine  professors  of  which  are  appointed  by  the  State 
on  nomination  by  the  reformed  churches ;  also  we  have  the  theo- 
logical faculty  of  the  Academy  of  Toulouse.  In  Germany  we  have 
one  chair  in  the  Kaiser  William  University,  Strasburg.  In  the 
Netherlands  we  have  two  professors  always  in  the  University  of 
Leyden,  in  which  faculty  is  also  the  celebrated  Kuenen,  one  of  the 
foremost  critics  of  the  rationalistic  school.  Professors  Goozen  and 
Offerhaus  are  the  present  appointees  of  the  Dutch  Reformed 
Church.  Also  in  the  University  of  Groningen  we  have  two  theo- 
logical chairs,  and  all  the  faculty  have  perfect  liberty  of  teaching. 
In  the  University  of  Amsterdam  we  have  two  chairs  in  the  theo- 
logical faculty.  The  Free  University  of  Amsterdam  is  ours  exclu- 
sively, being  a  protest  against  the  infidelity  that  appears  in  the 
National  Universities.  In  1854  was  founded  the  theological  school  at 
Kampen,  which  has  now  eighty-one  students  in  attendance.  In  Italy 
the  Waldensian  Church  comes  out  of  the  fires  of  its  terrible  persecu- 
tions, which  were  never  able  to  bring  it  into  connection  with  Rome. 
Presbyterian  always,  from  the  apostles  down,  with  its  theological 
seminary  which  in  1860  was  removed  from  Torrepellice  to  Florence 
and  the  Free  Church  has  its  Theological  Hall  at  Rome,  of  which 
grand  old  Father  Gavazzi  is  head.*  Many  of  your  readers  will 
remember  him,  as  he  has  spoken  in  our  churches.  In  Spain  the 
Reformed  Church  has  its  theological  college  at  Cadiz  under  charge 
of  the  Presbytery  of  Andalusia.  In  Switzerland,  at  the  Universities 
of  Bale,  Zurich,  and  Berne,  in  addition  to  the  ordinary  theological 
faculty,  are  in  each  case  a  number  of  what  are  called  private 
docente,  each  of  whom  is  a  member  of  the  Reformed  Church. 
The  Free  Church  has  at  Lansanue  a  theological  faculty  of  three 
professors  with  J.  Frederic  Astie  at  the  head,  and  at  Neuchatel  the 
Evangelical  and  Free  Church ;  each  has  a  theological  seminary. 
So  also  at  Geneva,  each  of  these  churches  has  its  school  of  theology. 
In  England  there  is  but  one,  on  Guilford  street,  London.  In 
Ireland  there  are  three,  two  at  Belfast  and  Magee  College  at  Lon- 
donderry. In  Scotland  there  are  nine — of  the  Established  Church  : 
St.  Andrew's,  Glasgow  University,  Aberdeen  University,  and  Edin- 

*  Father  Gavazzi  has  recently  died. 


"?6  A  PASTOKAL  JOURNEY. 

burgh  University ;  of  the  Free  Church  :  New  College,  Edinburgh  ; 
Free  College,  Aberdeen ;  and  Free  College,  Glasgow ;  of  the  United 
Presbyterian  Church :  Theological  Hall,  Edinburgh ;  and  of  the 
Secession  Church,  Divinity  Hall,  Glasgow.  In  South  Wales  is 
Trevecca  College.  In  dark  Africa  we  have  a  theological  Seminary 
at  Cairo,  with  three  professors  and  fifty-six  students ;  also  one  at 
Stellenbosch,  Cape  Colony;  and  another  at  Burghersdorp,  Cape 
Colony.  In  America  we  have  of  the  Northern  Church,  Princeton, 
Auburn,  Alleghany,  Lane  at  Cincinnati,  Union  at  New  York,  Dan- 
ville in  Kentucky,  McCormick  at  Chicago,  San  Francisco,  German 
at  Dubuque,  German  at  Newark,  N.  J.,  Lincoln  University,  Pa.,  and 
Biddle  University,  N.  C.  The  Southern  Church  has  Union  at 
Hampden,  Sidney,  Va.,  Columbia,  S.  C.,  Austin,  Tex.,  and  Tusca- 
loosa,  Ala.  The  Reformed  Church  has  New  Brunswick,  N.  J.,  and 
Hope  College,  Mich.  The  .Reformed  Church  in  America  has 
Grand  Rapids,  Mich.;  the  German  Reformed  has  Lancaster,  Pa., 
Heidelberg  at  Tiffin,  O  ,  Ursinus  at  Collegeville,  Pa.,  and  Sheboy- 
gan,  Wis.  The  United  Presbyterians  have  Xenia,  O  ,  Newburg,  N. 
Y.,  and  Alleghany,  Pa.  The  Associate  Reformed  has  Due  West, 
S.  C.  The  Reformed  Presbyterian  has  one  at  Philadelphia,  Pa., 
and  the  Cumberland  Church  one  at  Lebanon,  Tenn.  Canada 
shows  us  Queens  at  Kingston,  Ont.,  Knox  at  Toronto,  Halifax, 
Morvin  at  Quebec,  Montreal,  and  Manitoba  at  Winnipeg.  In 
Australia  we  find  St.  Andrews  at  Sydney,  Ormond  at  Melbourne, 
Divinity  Hall,  Brisbane,  and  Union  in  South  Australia.  In  far  off 
New  Zealand  we  find  the  University  of  New  Zealand  and  the 
College  of  Dunedin.  In  the  West  Indies  the  seminary  at  Kings- 
ton, Ja.  In  Asia  we  have  the  theological  school  at  Beirout.  In 
Persia  the  Seminary  of  Oroomiah,  and  others  like  these  two  last  on 
mission  fields  to  the  number  of  thirty  additional,  which  I  will  not 
weary  you  by  naming. 

To  sum  up  all  we  have  scattered  over  the  world,  eighty-seven 
theological  seminaries  with  347  professors,  3,624  students,  and  892,- 
657  volumes  in  their  libraries.  Surely  all  will  rejoice  with  us  that 
we  belt  the  round  globe  with  schools  of  investigation  into  truth, 
raising  up  men  to  defend  and  proclaim  the  faith  once  delivered  to 
the  saints.  Coming  up  from  all  these  different  and  widely  separated 
centers  where  they  have  pursued  their  independent  studies,  there  is 
much  of  divergence  of  view  on  many  points.  There  is  many  a 


A    PASTORAL   JOUKNEY.  71 

grapple  and  tug,  but  in  and  through  all  there  is  one  ring  and  accent 
that  proclaims  the  family  to  which  all  alike  belong. 

I  shall  not*  weary  you  with  extending  statistics,  but  shall  do  my 
subject  injustice  in  the  sight  of  all  Christian  workers  if  I  do  not 
give  a  few  hints  at  what  this  vast  body  is  doing.  In  point  of  money 
contributed  for  purely  religious  work  within  denominational  bounds, 
the  figures  will  not  fall  under  $10,000,000  for  the  last  year.  The 
various  Woman's  Boards  of  Missions  alone  gave  over  ^"100,000. 
In  the  field  of  foreign  mission  we  are  sustaining  521  foreign  and 
349  native  ordained  ministers,  with  281  licentiates;  and  other 
agents,  575  foreign  and  3,702  native — a  total  for  the  Presbyterian 
Church  of  the  world  of  5,248  persons.  The  adherents  on  mission 
fields  to  our  churches  are  284,146,  all  baptized,  of  whom  56,419 
are  communicants,  about  as  many  as  the  population  of  Oakland. 
We  have  also  on  these  fields  1,728  boarding  and  day  schools,  with 
84,752  scholars  under  instruction.  The  purely  denominational 
religious  papers  and  periodicals  of  the  church  number  284.  But 
enough  in  the  department  of  statistics.  In  the  matter  of  woman's 
work,  it  is  enough  to  say  that  among  the  many  organizations  named 
none  makes  a  better  showing  nor  receives  more  commendations 
than  our  own  Occidental  Board  of  the  Pacific  Coast. 

This,  in  short,  is  the  body  lying  back  of  this  council,  and  now 
the  appropriateness  of  the  name  assumed  by  it  is  clearly  seen, 
viz. :  The  Alliance  of  Reformed  Churches  Throughout  the  World 
Holding  the  Presbyterian  System.  Now  also  its  character  is 
clearly  seen.  It  is  merely  an  alliance,  with  no  power  except  to  con- 
fer together  on  vital  questions  that  concern  the  church  and  the 
common  faith.  In  debate  the  utmost  freedom  is  allowed,  the  most 
advanced  ideas  being  presented,  and  when  printed  are  understood 
to  be  individual  opinions,  the  alliance  not  being  committed  thereto. 
The  Christian  religion  has  nothing  to  fear  from  the  unfolding  of 
truth,  and  the  Presbyterian  Church  is  in  the  front  ranks  of  those 
who  search  for  the  truth  in  every  open  field.  The  comparison  of 
notes  upon  methods  of  work  is  also  of  great  value,  especially  to 
those  who  are  in  a  large  measure  isolated,  and  to  those  who  live  in 
lands  that  are  not  so  forward  and  active  in  all  these  matters.  It 
also  tends  to  repress  too  great  activity  where  by  surroundings  men 
have  been  led  on  to  ultra  and,  upon  the  whole,  exceptional  prac- 
tices. Scotland  is  a  balance  wheel  upon  America  and  America  is  a 


72  A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY. 

stimulant  for  Scotland.  Also  measures  of  great  moment  can  be 
carried  by  this  concerted  action,  e.  g.,  co-operation  in  foreign  mis- 
sion fields  has  received  an  impetus  in  this  council  that  will  impel  all 
Presbyterian  churches  far  in  that  most  desirable  direction.  When 
the  bodies  are  thus  eye  to  eye  suggesting,  amending,  asking  and 
replying,  proposing  and  discussing,  the  ends  desired  are  furthered 
rapidly. 

This  is  the  body,  and  for  such  purposes  assembled,  that  is  now 
holding  its  closing  sessions  in  this  city.  I  will  not  pretend  to  call 
the  roll  of  the  great  and  well-known  names  in  church  and  state,  in 
the  pulpit  and  in  the  sanctum,  who  sit  daily  here  in  conference. 
But  to  see  the  men  I  long  have  known  by  reputation,  to  talk  with 
them,  to  hear  them  speak  on  vital  questions,  is  one  of  the  events  of 
my  life.  It  will  be  of  lasting  benefit  to  me  personally,  and  to  my  work 
in  its  further  prosecution.  I  only  wish  that  all  of  my  friends  might 
enjoy  the  feast  with  us.  In  my  next  letter,  which  will  probably  be  my 
last,  unless  I  find  something  in  the  celebration  of  the  Fourth  of 
July  in  Paris,  or  in  the  sewers  of  that  beautiful  city,  to  write  about, 
I  will  give  you  a  running  account  of  events  from  day  to  day.  In 
this  I  have  aimed  to  make  you  acquainted  with  the  body  itself  that 
stands  at  the  head  of  world-wide  Presbyterianism. 

It  was  my  honor  on  last  Sabbath  to  be  selected  to  preach  for  the 
people  of  London's  most  celebrated  man  of  our  order,  Rev.  Donald 
Fraser,  author  and  pulpit  orator.  He  is  a  tall,  slender  man,  with  a 
mass  of  snow  white  hair  covering  his  head  and  with  white  side 
whiskers.  In  action  he  is  dramatic,  in  language  he  is  limpid  and 
forcible.  The  hem  and  the  haw  and  the  drawl  of  ordinary  British 
oratory  disappear  in  him  as  in  Gladstone.  His  church  is  plain 
without,  but  quite  beautiful  within.  The  pulpit  is  high  and  white, 
with  staircase  in  the  rear  by  which  it  is  entered;  which  done,  a 
church  officer  draws  a  red  plush  curtain  behind  the  preacher  and  he 
finds  himself  nearly  on  a  level  with  the  gallery.  Of  course,  I  wore 
the  plain  black  Genevan  gown  to  which  the  Presbyterian  Church 
in  the  older  countries  and  in  many  parts  of  America  has  always 
adhered.  It  was  a  great  mistake  for  any  to  depart  from  the  custom, 
for  several  reasons,  which  we  will  not  stop  to  mention. 

Coming  down  at  the  close  of  the  service,  who  should  appear 
before  me  but  Trustee  Dalziel  of  my  church,  of  the  firm  of  Dalziel 
&  Moller,  Oakland,  California.  It  seemed  like  a  breath  from  Cali- 


A    PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  73 

fornia.  Then  came  Miss  Haight,  also  of  my  church,  who  has  been 
on  this  side  of  the  ocean  for  about  a  year.  Wherever  we  go  we  find 
Californians.  Also  we  find  enthusiastic  friends  of  California.  Last 
night  we  dined  at  Hampstead,  London's  most  beautiful  quarter, 
with  Mr.  Edwards,  who  visited  us  last  year,  in  company  with  Rev. 
John  Dunlap  and  Rev.  Mr.  Matthews,  in  the  interest  of  Christian 
work  among  the  Jews.  He  is  brim  full  yet  of  the  visit,  is  booming 
California,  and  like  all  others  who  have  ever  undertaken  to  say 
much  about  it,  is  not  believed.  He  says  that  he  only  wants  a 
reasonable  excuse  for  so  doing,  when  he  shall  at  once  repeat  his  visit. 
During  a  walk  of  three  miles  around  Hampstead  heath,  -looking 
from  those  heights  down  upon  London,  lying  on  all  sides  as  far  and 
farther  than  we  could  see,  with  St.  Paul's  looming  up  above  every- 
thing, and  revealing  its  greatness  as  it  does  not  from  a  nearer  view, 
he  talked  America  in  all  the  intervals  of  local  description.  Miss 
Josie  Simon  is  here  with  her  mother,  cultivating  her  wonderful 
voice.  She  has  sent  me  her  card,  and  I  hope  to  call  upon  them 
before  leaving  for  home  via  Paris  and  Bremen. 

FRANCIS  A.  HORTON. 


LETTER  XIII. 

LONDON,  July  12,  1888. 

At  eleven  o'clock  on  Thursday  morning,  July  3d,  the  fourth 
meeting  of  the  Alliance  Pan  Presbyterian  was  called  to  order  in 
Regent  Square  Church,  this  city.  The  first  council  was  held  at 
Edinburgh,  at  which  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Eells,  then  pastor  of  the  First 
Presbyterian  Church  of  Oakland,  was  present  as  a  delegate.  Four 
years  later  the  second  council  was  held  at  Philadelphia,  Pennsyl- 
vania. Four  years  later  the  third  council  was  held  at  Belfast, 
when  Rev.  Dr.  Sprecher  of  Calvary  Church,  San  Francisco,  for- 
merly of  Oakland,  was  the  Pacific  coast  delegate.  This  year  it 
is  in  London,  and  the  First  Church  of  Oakland  is  again  in 
honor,  having  for  the  third  time  a  pastor  in  representation.  Four 
years  hence  the  council  will  be  held  in  Toronto,  Canada.  One 
other  church  came  under  my  notice  that  had  three  pastors  present 
in  this  one  council ;  that  was  the  First  Reformed  Dutch  Church  of 
8 


-  A   PASTO11AL   JOUENEY. 

Catskill,  New  York,  Rev.  Dr.  Welch,  professor  in  Auburn  Semi- 
nary, your  correspondent,  and  Rev.  Dr.  Van  Slyke,  the  present 
incumbent. 

Regent  Square  Church  is  memorable  as  being  formerly  in 
charge  of  the  late  Edward  Irving,  who  went  out  from  us  and 
founded  the  order  of  Irvingites,  named  for  him.  Those  whom  I 
have  met  of  his  followers  are  men  and  women  of  pure  life  and 
noble  purpose.  While  not  accepting  his  doctrines,  we  raise  no  ques- 
tion as  to  his  motives  and  s,)eak  a  good  word  for  his  followers. 

The  devotional  part  of  the  services  was  led  by  ex-Moderator 
Smith  of  the  Northern  Church  of  the  United  States,  the  small, 
cramped  pulpit  admitting  of  but  one  occupant  at  a  time.  When  he 
came  down,  the  pastor  of  the  church,  Rev.  J.  Oswald  Dykes,  who 
is  also  at  the  head  of  the  Presbyterian  College  of  London,  went  up 
and  preached  the  opening  sermon.  Principal  Dykes  is  a  compara- 
tively young  man,  of  stalwart  frame,  with  a  clear  mind  and  choice 
use  of  language.  The  sermon  was  not  in  the  least  bigoted,  but 
broad,  charitable,  yet  laying  again  the  grand  principles  which,  from 
the  Reformation  onward,  have  borne  the  weight  of  the  reformed 
churches.  This  over,  the  concluding  prayer  was  offered  by  Rev. 
Dr.  Monod  of  Paris,  whose  English  is  very  pure,  and  whose  pres- 
ence on  the  rostrum  all  through  the  council  was  a  signal  for 
applause.  He  is  a  small  man  with  dark  complexion,  deep  set  black 
eyes,  long,  jet  black  hair,  a  lock  of  which  persists  in  falling  into  his 
right  eye.  He  has  a  great  soul,  and  it  is  all  on  fire  with  the  work 
he  has  in  hand  for  the  Master.  Then  Dr.  Dykes  constituted  the 
council  formally  with  prayer,  in  which  he  remembered  the  heads  of 
the  various  lands  represented — Queen  Victoria  first  and  President 
Cleveland  next. 

Then  came  the  roll-call  of  the  three  hundred  delegates.  Every 
ear  and  eye  of  the  vast  audience  was  at  its  best  to  catch  the  name 
and  to  recognize  the  man  it  represented.  To  aid  in  this  the  delegates 
were  requested  both  to  respond  and  to  rise  in  their  places.  It  seemed 
like  an  echo  from  the  last  great  roll  call  of  the  future,  and  I  fancied 
this  eagerness  to  see  men  of  whom  we  had  long  heard  and  by  whose 
books  and  writings  we  have  been  instructed  in  many  things,  was  not 
unlike  the  interest  you  and  I  will  take  in  detecting  Moses  and  Paul, 
Luther  and  Knox,  Wesley  and  Whitefield,  and  many  others  on  that 
great  day  of  assembling.  The  usual  custom  was  followed  of  hav- 


A   PASTORAL   JOURXEY.  75 

ing  a  new  presiding  officer  at  each  session,  and  the  aged  Rev.  Dr. 
Cairns  was  placed  first  in  the  chair.  He  is  admitted  to  carry  as 
much  of  the  brain  of  Scotland  as  any  other  man  now  living.  He 
is  very  large  and  has  white  hair  and  beard  and  is  of  commanding 
appearance.  The  organization  completed  and  the  hour  of  adjourn- 
ment having  arrived  the  evening  session  was  omitted  in  order  to 
enable  the  delegates  to  attend  a  reception  tendered  to  them  at 
Argyle  Lodge,  Campden  Hill,  the  town  residence  of  the  Duke,  the 
MacCallum  More.  This  was  the  first  of  a  series  in  which  the  Lon- 
don Presbyterians  endeavored  to  equal  the  hospitality  of  the  cities 
that  had  previously  entertained  the  council. 

Manifest  difficulties  were  in  their  way,  growing  out  of  the  immense 
London  distances  scattering  widely  the  members  of  the  churches, 
but,  despite  all,  they  succeeded  in  doing  admirably,  beginning  with 
this  reception  by  the  Duke  of  Argyle  and  ending  with  one  by  the 
Earl  and  Countess  of  Aberdeen.  I  may  as  well  speak  of  them  all 
in  a  lump  and  not  refer  to  them  again.  A  long  underground  ride 
brought  us  to  the  station,  a  short  walk  brought  us  to  the  lodge, 
where  we  were  received  by  Lord  Balfour  of  Burleigh,  the  duke 
being  detained  at  the  Lord's  by  an  important  debate  that  was  on. 
The  beautiful  lawns  were  at  the  disposal  of  the  guests — in  one  place 
a  large  tent  for  speaking,  and  on  either  side  of  it  two  smaller  tents 
with  refreshments.  A  band  furnished  music  of  one  kind  and  a 
company  of  pipers  music  of  another  sort.  The  last  was  the  more 
unusual  and  therefore  most  interesting,  albeit  their  music  was  good. 
Speeches  in  due  time  were  made  by  men  from  Canada,  United 
States,  England,  Ireland,  France,  and  Hungary.  Dr.  Lynd  spoke 
for  Ireland  in  a  very  witty  address,  claiming  for  Ireland  every  good 
thing  that  has  gone  out  into  the  world.  Evidently  the  blarney  stone 
has  spread  its  influence  to  the  far  north  in  the  Emerald  Isle.  The 
refreshments  were  ample  and  excellent,  the  young  ladies  behind  the 
tables  doing  the  honors  wore  uniform  apparel  and  looked  very 
pretty.  The  only  drawback,  at  least  to  us  who  do  mind  such 
things,  was  the  fitful  rain,  pouring  madly  at  one  moment  and  the 
sun  smiling  the  next,  as  though  to  see  how  much  of  this  we  could 
stand  and  not  get  out  of  humor.  For  three  days  the  entire  body 
of  delegates  and  some  of  their  elect  ladies  were  lunched  at  the  New 
Holborn  restaurant  in  fine  style  after  the  morning  session,  which 
ended  at  three  o'clock.  This  was  an  expensive  piece  of  entertain- 


76  A  PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 

ment.  Then  on  Saturday  two  excursions  were  planned,  one  to 
Cambridge  University  and  one  to  Hampton  Court  and  Kew  Gar- 
dens, the  choice  being  given. 

We  chose  Hampton  and  Kew,  and  with  a  train  load  visited 
those  interesting  places,  under  guidance  of  a  gentleman  thoroughly 
informed  in  all  the  details  of  history  centering  in  the  former.  In 
the  grand  hall  he. gave  us  a  short  lecture  on  the  conferences  held  by 
James  I,  upon  taking  the  throne,  with  the  clergy  and  the  puritans, 
each  party  hoping  to  gain  his  support.  Old  history  becomes  new 
when  told  in  the  very  rooms  whose  walls  witnessed  and  heard  the 
facts  narrated.  After  a  long  look  through  the  gallaries  and  paint- 
ings and  tapestry,  and  a  walk  through  the  beautiful  grounds,  we  sat 
down  to  a  superb  luncheon  in  a  tent  in  Bushy  Park.  This  over,  we 
took  a  most  romantic  walk  to  Teddington,  about  one  mile,  through 
an  avenue  of  horse  chestnuts.  The  trees  are  old  and  large.  They 
stand  twenty-five  feet  apart  each  way,  and  are  seven  rows  deep  on 
either  side  of  the  roadway.  The  gentleman  in  charge  said  that 
when  they  were  in  full  blossom  it  was  one  of  the  sights  of  England, 
as  we  could  well  understand.  The  Cambridge  party  spoke  enthusi- 
astically of  their  trip  and  reception. 

On  Monday,  in  the  recess,  the  principal  librarian  and  keepers  of 
the  British  Museum  received  the  delegates  at  eleven  o'clock  and 
conducted  them  through  that  famous  building,  especially  exhibiting 
the  original  records  of  the  Westminster  Assembly.  On  Wednesday 
at  four  o'clock,  Dean  Bradley  of  Westminster  Abbey  received 
the  delegates  in  the  Nave  and  conducted  them  into  the  famous 
Jerusalem  chambers,  where  the  work  of  revising  the  scriptures  was 
carried  on.  Lord  Balfour  took  a  party  of  fifty  over  the  House  of 
Lords.  Admission  was  also  furnished  to  the  Commons.  This  is 
not  so  easily  obtained  now  as  before  the  attempts  at  destruction  by 
dynamite  there  and  in  the  Tower.  An  omnibus  ride  to  Bunhill 
Fields  was  also  offered.  There  lie  the  remains  of  John  Bunyan  and 
De  Foe,  uhose  writings  are  household  words.  The  Bible  Society 
gave  a  reception  also,  and  the  Tract  Society  made  a  present  to  each 
delegate  of  the  bound  volumes  of  their  works.  Thus  the  endeavor 
was  made  to  show  hospitality  equal  to  the  best,  and  we  think  the 
effort  was  crowned  with  success. 

The  second  day  the  council  met  in  Exeter  Hall,  where  the 
sessions  were  held  to  the  end.  The  lower  hall  was  occupied,  but  in 


A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY.  77 

a  very  short  time  the  meeting  was  crowded  out  into  the  great  hall 
above,  where  it  continued.  A  fine  attendance  of  visitors  was  main- 
tained throughout  in  the  day,  while  the  evening  sessions,  of  a  more 
popular  character,  were  densely  thronged.  Stretched  across  the 
end  of  the  building,  completely  covering  the  great  organ,  still  hung 
the  map  of  the  world  in  use  by  the  missionary  conference,  whose 
meetings  have  but  just  now  ended.  By  the  by,  it  is  a  singular  com- 
ment on  the  fact  that  journals  closely  follow  the  trend  of  public 
demand  in  the  matter  of  news,  that  although  I  have  not  been  out 
of  the  British  Isles  during  the  sittings  of  that  body,  I  have  not  been 
able  to  find  ten  lines  of  news  from  it,  while  reading  the  papers 
daily.  You  know  in  America,  west  end,  ten  times  as  much  as  I  do 
here  in  England  of  what  happened  there.  I  am  told  that  certain 
papers  made  a  specialty  of  the  conference,  but  I  did  not  get  hold  of 
them  ;  and  Dr.  Ellingwood  remarked  in  the  closing  meeting  that  it 
was  singular  that  so  much  space  could  be  given  to  a  horse  race  or 
to  a  reception  and  none  to  the  great  matters  of  sending  the  gospel 
to  the  ends  of  the  earth. 

The  papers  presented  and  subjects  discussed  covered  a  wide 
range  of  questions  that  are  considered  vital  as  well  as  those  of  a 
practical  nature.  The  great  points  reached  after  in  all  were  truth 
and  efficiency,  truth  as  the  solid  foundation  and  efficiency  in  appli- 
cation. The  first  day's  discussions  were  devoted  to  the  practical 
working  of  the  eldership  and  to  church  worship.  In  the  latter  case 
the  methods  in  vogue  in  our  western  world  were  soundly  condemned 
in  general  principle.  In  making  the  application  for  myself  I  cer- 
tainly could  not  defend  some  of  the  western  methods,  either  from 
scripture  or  from  the  fruit  they  bear  in  actual  experience.  The 
next  day  was  devoted  to  intellectual  difficulties  and  scientific  hin- 
derances  to  faith,  and  how  to  deal  with  them  most  effectively.  This 
was  a  warm  day  inside,  as  may  be  supposed.  In  smooth  language, 
and  with  gentle  intonation,  papers  were  read  that  set  all  to  thinking 
most  profoundly,  and  some  to  raising  objections  and  offering  criti- 
cisms. Very  advanced  ideas  were  set  forth  and  received  kindly, 
and  shot  through  and  through  by  those  who  did  not  agree,  and  all  was 
smiling  and  peaceful.  It  was  the  playing  of  lions,  one  could  easily 
reason  to  their  more  determined  struggles.  Then  came  co-opera- 
tion on  foreign  mission  fields  with  testimony  from  missionaries  from 
all  parts  of  the  world  as  to  the  evils  of  having  so  many  bodies  rep- 


78  A  PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 

resented  there.  The  entire  sentiment  was  in  favor  of  co-operation, 
and  the  council  has  advanced  that  idea  very  much  by  its  action. 

Woman's  work  in  all  its  phases  was  discussed,  with  many  a  good 
word  for  these  most  faithful  upholders  of  the  Master's  interests. 
Professor  Charteris,  of  Edinburgh,  opened  it  with  a  paper  that  was 
criticised  much  as  to  its  exegesis  of  scripture  touching  the  place  of 
women  in  the  public  services  of  the  church.  The  council  heartily 
indorsed  their  work,  and  bade  them  God  speed.  All  agreed  that  it 
marked  the  beginning  of  a  new  era  in  the  church's  aggressive  work. 
Much  attention  was  given  to  the  Colonial  and  European  churches, 
in  which  department  lie  many  of  those  feeble  ones  whom  this 
alliance  is  intended  to  benefit.  They  were  made  to  feel  that  they 
were  not  by  any  means  alone  and  without  sympathy. 

A  very  rich  day  was  that  given  to  the  young.  The  children  hold 
a  very  warm  place  in  our  hearts,  a  fact  that  was  evidenced  by  the 
full  attendance  all  day.  It  was  my  honor  to  have  the  main  place  in 
opening  the  subject  in  an  address  upon  "  More  Advanced  Ideas  in 
America  Upon  Sunday  School  Matters."  The  appointment  fell  to 
me  in  the  absence  of  Dr.  Worden.  The  statement  of  our  ideas 
and  practices  awakened  great  interest,  and  called  for  private  inquiry 
afterwards  on  points.  The  council  was  not  ready  to  accept  all  we 
think  and  do,  but  gladly  made  note  of  them  for  further  considera- 
tion. Thus  the  seed  is  sown,  and  in  far  away  lands  it  will  bear 
fruit  of  which  neither  you  nor  I  may  ever  hear.  The  grand  thing 
is  to  have  good  methods,  and  then  tell  them  out,  because  you  know 
that  they  are  good.  The  evening  was  filled  up  on  these  same  topics 
by  such  men  as  Dr.  Holmes,  of  Albany,  New  York;  Dr.  Hall,  of 
New  York,  and  Rev.  Mr.  Neil,  the  Spurgeon  of  Scotland,  as  he  is 
called.  Thus  in  a  rough  and  hasty  way  I  have  given  to  you  a 
nibble  from  the  great  feast. 

The  organization  of  the  Alliance  is  more  fully  perfected  by 
creating  the  office  of  chief  secretary,  at  a  salary  of  $2,500  per 
annum,  and  an  American  secretary  without  compensation.  The 
first  is  to  have  no  other  occupation,  and  is  to  reside  in  Great  Britain. 
Rev.  Dr.  Matthews,  of  Quebec,  was  elected  chief  secretary,  and  will 
remove  to  London  on  the  first  of  October,  at  which  time  his  salary 
will  begin.  Rev.  Dr.  Roberts,  of  Cincinnati,  was  chosen  the  Ameri- 
can assistant.  He  will  be  invaluable  to  the  American  churches. 
This  Alliance  has,  through  the  ignorance  of  the  secretaries  as  to  the 


A    PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  79 

caliber  and  fitness  of  the  Americans,  been  largely  Scotch  in  its 
papers  and  reports.  No  man  can  better  correct  this  than  the 
assistant  secretary  chosen,  who  is  the  stated  clerk  of  the  General 
Assembly  of  the  Northern  Church. 

The  Alliance  gave  very  distinct  utterance  to  the  sentiments  of  the 
church  on  the  question  of  the  introduction  of  liquor  into  the  Pacific 
Islands.  Earl  Granville  states  that  in  response  to  an  official  propo- 
sition that  the  various  governments  interested  should  join  to  prevent 
the  selling  of  liquor  and  gunpowder,  he  had  received  favorable 
word  from  all  but  two,  and  one  of  these  was  the  United  States.  It 
was  a  stinging  rebuke  to  the  American  delegates,  and  made  us  blush 
for  our  nation.  The  quality  of  some  of  the  liquor  sold  in  the 
Congo  Free  States  is  such  that  it  is  in  testimony  by  naturalists  that 
it  destroys  instead  of  preserving  natural  history  specimens.  On  all 
such  questions  the  foremost  nation  should  be  on  the  right  side,  and 
we  hope  soon  to  see  America  there. 

In  its  sessions  the  council  made  repeated  mention  in  prayer  of 
the  great  Pan  Angelican  Council  of  Bishops  now  in  session  in  Lam- 
beth Palace,  seat  of  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  A  resolution 
was  passed  conveying  to  them  formally  our  Christian  regards  and 
salutations.  The  great  bodies  of  the  religious  world  are  drawing 
closer  together.  Some  in  cold  disdain  prefer  as  yet  to  stand  aloof, 
but  it  is  rapidly  getting  chilly  out  there.  The  evening  of  rank 
denominationalism  is  falling,  and  all  will  come  in  out  of  the  damp 
and  cold  by  and  by,  if  not  in  organic  union  at  least  in  effective  co- 
operation. To  this  end  the  Alliance  of  Presbyterian  Churches  is 
ever  progressing,  both  between  the  scattered  members  of  her  own 
family  and  between  herself  and  all  familes  of  those  who  hold  the 
true  evangelical  faith  of  the  ever-living  Word  of  God. 

FRANCIS  A.  HORTON. 


80  A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY. 

LETTER  XIV. 

GENEVA,  July  20,  1888. 

I  wish  to  speak  a  good  word  for  Scarborough,  up  in  Yorkshire, 
England.  I  hurried  you  down  to  London,  and  my  conscience  has 
accused  me  ever  since  of  having  slighted  a  friend.  This  I  never 
do ;  friendship  is  a  sacred  word  with  me,  and  the  thing  itself  once 
killed  is  like  the  slaying  of  a  person — the  precious  life  is  gone  for- 
ever, beyond  possibility  of  restoration.  So  to  square  up  things  with 
Scarborough  I  will  tarry  long  enough  to  say  that  the  people  of  York- 
shire may  murder  their  h's  to  the  amusement  of  the  world,  they 
may  have  a  dialect  of  their  own  that  needs  interpretation  to  out- 
siders, but  so  long  as  they  have  York  Minster  for  architecture,  and 
Scarborough  for  seaside  resort,  they  may-hold  up  their  heads  and' 
expose  their  big,  red,  masculine  faces  to  the  gaze  of  the  world  with- 
out a  blush.  As  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  prettily  puts  it  in  another 
connection,  nature  has  been  "  throwing  her  red  roses  against  their 
faces"  so  long  that  perhaps  a  blush  might  exist  inwardly,  yet  find 
no  place  to  appear  outwardly.  But  up  there  on  the  coast  of  the 
North  sea,  just  across  from  Holland,  is  one  of  nature's  gems,  and 
appreciative  man  has  polished  it  into  a  thing  of  beauty.  A  deep 
bay,  with  coast  line  curving  inward  for  many  a  league,  then  sweep- 
ing outward  again  ;  a  high  bluff,  not  less  than  five  hundred  feet 
above  the  sea,  sloping  down  to  right,  to  left,  and  gently  falling 
toward  the  sea,  with  park  upon  the  seaward  declivity  with  paths 
winding  down ;  a  lovely  beach  covered  with  children  playing  in  the 
sand,  with  dogs  running  madly  into  the  breakers  and  out  again, 
with  ponies  and  donkeys  saddled  and  ready  for  the  mount,  with 
bathing  cars,  with  boats  in  endless  variety  and  number  almost, 
manned  by  weather-beaten  seamen,  whose  visages  bespeak  knowl- 
edge of  the  sea  and  inspire  the  terra  firma  heart  with  confidence ;  a 
grand  pavilion,  with  seats  for  hundreds,  and  a  band  discoursing 
sweetest  music,  a  city  embowered  in  trees,  with  shady  walks  on 
every  hand,  with  deep  glens  ornamented  in  high  art,  with  waterfall, 
and  pond,  and  swimming  ducks,  and  swans,  bright  vehicles  and 
pleasing  occupants,  good  hotels  and  comfortable  lodgings — such  is 
the  panorama  that  will  long  roll  and  unroll  itself  before  my  mind 
as  I  think  of  Scarborough.  Brighton  is  larger  and  more  widely 


A    PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  81 

known,   more  expensive  and   fashionable,  but  to  me  it  can   never 
compare  with  the  little  cove  in  Yorkshire. 

Speaking  of  dialect,  I  am  reminded  of  a  man  and  wife,  most 
agreeable  and  pleasing  to  recall,  with  whom  we  traveled  for  some 
miles.  She  remarked  that  the  Queen  "was  a  decent  woman."  See- 
ing that  we  regarded  that  sage  observation  as  a  doubtful  compli- 
ment, she  explained  by  saying,  "In  Yorkshire  'decent'  means  a 
great  deal.  When  you  want  to  say  the  best  you  can  of  a  person 
just  call  him  'decent.'"  After  winding  about  in  York,  which  is  as 
interesting  itself  to  me  as  is  the  Minster,  turning  in  and  out  of  the 
narrow  streets  as  fancy  moved  us,  shopping  here  and  pricing  there, 
we  found  that  our  time  had  got  away  from  us,  and  that  we  needed 
to  make  haste  to  get  away  after  it.  So  I  asked  a  citizen  to  show  me 
a  short  cut  out.  He  said,  "Just  go  into  yon  snicket  and  push 
through."  "Yon  what?"  said  I.  "Yon  snicket  where  you  see  the 
open  door."  So  we  went  to  hunt  the  snicket,  passed  through  an 
opening  in  the  wall  the  size  of  an  ordinary  door,  and  found  our- 
elves  hemmed  in  between  buildings  so  close  together  that  in  places 
we  could  touch  them  on  both  sides  at  once  by  extending  the  arms.  It 
wound  this  way  and  that  way,  and  all  along  were  tenement  houses  with 
front  doors  opening  upon  the  snicket,  so  that  a  sense  of  intrusion 
upon  privacy  naturally  quickened  our  steps  and  suppressed  our 
merriment  at  the  strange  adventure  and  experience.  But  in  true 
Boston  style  the  short  cut  put  us  out  just  where  we  wanted  to  be,  and 
saved  us  many  a  step  on  crowded  streets.  I  am  not  an  expert 
philologist,  but  wife  and  I  concluded  that  snicket  must  be  a  corrup- 
tion of  "sneak  out." 

The  old  Minster  is  getting  to  be  more  and  more  a  burden  of 
expense.  In  many  places  the  stone  is  chipping  off,  and  if  one 
applies  an  unsanctified  hand  to  the  severed  relic  of  a  past  age  at 
such  a  place  the  sand  will- be  found  to  have  little  cohesion,  crumb- 
ling easily  away  under  the  pressure.  I  wonder,  as  I  look  about, 
whether  stone  ever  gets  the  dry  rot,  and  whether  there  may  not 
come  a  day  when  in  spite  of  care  and  expense  these  venerable  old 
piles  will  come  down.  It  seems  as  though  the  only  positive  assur- 
ance to  the  contrary  is  actual  rebuilding  stone  by  stone  as  weakness 
appears. 

Now  having  done  my  duty  to  Yorkshire  I  shall  bring  you  over 
the  channel  with  me,  remarking  that  your  passage,  on  paper,  will  be 
9 


82  A    PASTORAL   JOURNEY. 

no  more  free  from  sea-sickness  than  was  mine,  and  no  less  so.  The 
morning  was  beautiful,  and  the  sea  was  tired  out  with  a  terrible 
storm  that  had  been  raging  for  several  days.  So  while  it  was  rest- 
ing and  getting  ready  to  do  up  some  more  voyagers,  we  slipped  over 
in  peace  and  quiet. 

Looking  back  upon  Paris  from  this  mountain  city  on  the  banks 
of  the  bluish,  greenish  Rhone  and  the  lovely  lake  that  takes  its 
name,  I  wish  to  speak  a  good  word  for  our  hostess  in  that  city, 
which  will  be  a  good  word  also  to  any  who  may  make  a  note 
of  it  for  future  use.  To  many  persons  hotel  life  is  unpleasant.  I 
sicken  of  it  very  soon.  To  others  the  expense  is  an  item  of  much 
importance.  It  always  has  been  and  probably  always  will  be  to  me. 
So  the  great  mass  of  people  like  a  hint  here  and  there  of  a  better 
and  a  less  costly  way  of  getting  on.  For  their  sakes  and  to  possess 
their  gratitude  I  mention  my  dear  Madame  Riston,  80  Avenue 
Kleber,  whose  house  is  a  home  and  an  hotel  combined,  whose 
kindness  and  thoughtfulness  are  unceasing  and  wonderfully  agree- 
able in  a  strange  city,  in  a  foreign  land.  You  take  to  her  at  once, 
and  keep  on  taking  to  her  until  you  leave,  and  then  want  all  in 
whom  you  have  any  interest  to  take  to  her,  too.  For  a  score  of 
years  she  kept  a  young  ladies'  boarding  school  in  New  York,  and  so 
is  thoroughly  acquainted  with  our  ways,' wherefore  her  house  is  very 
popular  with  Americans.  It  contains  some  twenty-five  rooms,  so 
there  is  almost  always  a  possibility  of  being  accommodated  if  notice 
is  given  befo  ehand.  Her  terms  are  ten  francs  per  day,  including 
early  and  late  breakfast  and  evening  dinner,  with  room  and  attend- 
ance of  course.  Avenue  Kleber  is  one  of  the  twelve  streets  radiat- 
ing from  the  Arc  de  Triomph,  forming  the  "star."  It  is  broad  and 
beautiful.  No.  80  is  about  midway  between  the  Arc  and  the  Tro- 
cadero,  not  more  than  ten  minutes'  walk  from  either.  Any  one  who 
knows  Paris  will  say  that  this  is  one  of  its  very  best  quarters.  And 
as  the  exposition  next  year  will  center  in  the  Trocadero  and  in  the 
Champs  de  Mars,  the  two  being  connected  by  a  bridge  across  the 
Seine,  number  80  will  have  special  value. 

"You  may  take  all  the  musty  old  castles  and  tumble  down 
churches  and  the  like  and  I  will  take  Paris,"  said  my  other  self  as 
we  were  walking  leisurely  down  one  of  the  gorgeous  streets  in  the 
cool  of  the  day.  First,  a  broad  sidewalk  lined  inside  the  curb  with 
a  row  of  beautiful  shade  trees,  then  a  wide,  smoothly  paved  road- 


A    PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  83 

way  extending  to  a  second  curbing,  then  another  row  of  trees,  then 
a  wide,  graveled  walk  and  a  third  row  of  trees,  then  an  equestrian 
way  and  a  fourth  row  of  trees,  then  a  second  paved  roadway  and  a 
fifth  row  of  trees,  and  finally  a  second  sidewalk,  while  over  the 
fences  on  both  sides  gardens  with  shrubbery  separate  the  houses 
from  the  avenue.  No  doubt  Paris  is  the  most  beautiful  city  in  the 
world.  It  has,  however,  two  sides — cleanest  and  dirtiest,  attractive 
and  repulsive — both  sets  of  description  belong  to  it.  The  transient 
visitor  endeavors,  as  far  as  may  be,  to  overlook  the  latter,  and  the 
native  is  so  accustomed  to  them  that  he  never  thinks  ot  them.  So 
all  think  and  speak  of  its  beauties  and  charms,  and  there  is  no  end 
to  the  theme.  Her  galleries  are  studded  with  gems.  One  Madonna 
in  the  Luxembourg,  with  a  dead  boy  at  her  feet  and  its  weeping 
mother  kneeling  beside  her  with  elbows  in  her  lap  and  hands  over 
her  face,  while  the  Madonna's  eyes  are  raised  heavenward,  is  a  won- 
derful production.  To  look  upon  her  is  to  pray,  to  hope,  to  feel  a 
new  inspiration ;  her  face  is  a  sermon,  a  heaven  of  rest,  once  seen  is 
never  to  be  forgotten,  a  presence  ever  abiding,  an  uplift  ever  felt. 
And  this  is  but  one,  yet  to  me  the  divinest,  the  most  deeply  spiritual 
anywhere  to  be  found.  By  the  way,  when  you  go  to  London  do 
not  fail  to  visit  the  Dore  Gallery.  That  weird  creature  whose  sign 
manual  in  our  memories  is  for  the  most  part  snakes  and  billows  of 
flame  and  writhing  humanity,  has  given  in  this  gallery  some  of  the 
best  conceptions  of  Jesus  and  his  love  extant.  I  think  that  no 
more  ravishingly  beautiful  face  of  the  Son  of  man  is  to  be  found 
than  that  of  Dore's  Christ  coming  down  the  steps  of  the  Praetorium 
after  conviction.  His  conception  of  Christ  saying  "  Come  unto 
me  all  ye  that  labor,"  etc.,  is  also  wonderful — one  feels  that  it  is 
exactly  true.  Yet  in  the  Louvre  there  are  some  inexpressible  faces 
of  Jesus ;  they  hold  one  tenderly,  firmly,  and  appeal  to  the  inmost 
soul.  I  do  not  like  Peter  Paul  Rubens.  I  suppose  it  is  artistic 
heresy  to  say  so,  but  there,  it  is  written  down  !  and  now  bring  on  the 
thumbscrews  and  the  rack.  Nevertheless,  I  may  say  that  having 
seen  those  gentle  persuaders  in  the  Tower  of  London,  I  wish  it  dis- 
tinctly understood  that  I  mean  bring  them  on  figuratively.  I  never 
saw  the  Rubens  yet,  I  never  entertained  an  opinion  on  art  yet,  for 
which  I  would  stand  long  in  the  presence  of  those  hideous  argu- 
ments. I  even  wonder  what  kind  of  martyr  timber  there  is  in  me. 
But  at  this  sife  distance  in  time  and  space  I  repeat  I  do  not  like 


84  A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 

Rubens.  He  twists  and  distorts  his  figures,  I  suppose  to  show  his 
wonderful  knowledge  of  human  anatomy,  but  the  effect  is  extremely 
disagreeable.  David  is  simply  glorious.  His  paintings  in  the  one 
room  at  Versailles,  showing  the  end  of  human  glory  in  the  case  of 
Napoleon,  are  enough  of  honorable  achievement  for  one  man. 
There  we  see  Napoleon  as  boy,  as  man ;  Napoleon  crowning  Jose- 
phine ;  Napoleon  giving  the  eagles  to  the  army ;  and  finally,  in  the 
center  of  the  room,  amid  these  grand  portrayals  of  a  life  full  of 
ambition  and  accomplishment,  stands  a  marble  statue  showing  the 
great  general  dying  at  St.  Helena.  Who  can  walk  through  these 
miles  of  paintings  and  not  be  the  better  for  it  ?  Would  that  we 
could  visit  them  often-,  when  the  brain  is  weary  and  the  pressure  of 
care  is  heavy ;  when  friends  fall  off  and  death  seems  a  far  more 
agreeable  companion  than  men  are  wont  to  think ;  when  thought  is 
feeble  and  expression  difficult ;  when  we  just  hate  books  for  we  are 
overfull  of  them ;  then  to  walk  silently  here  and  look  into  face  after 
face  that  seem  to  open  a  vista,  stretching  away  into  undreamed-of 
depths,  to  feel  the  impress  of  a  presence  that  soothes  as  a  mother, 
that  instructs  as  a  teacher,  that  administers  as  a  doctor ;  to  go  on 
looking  into  deeper  grief  than  you  have  ever  known,  into  more 
hopeless  friendliness  than  you  have  ever  experienced ;  this,  all 
this,  is  a  soul  bath  in  the  best  thought  of  the  ages,  in  the  holiest 
conceptions  of  humanity,  and  as  a  resultant  to  go  out  with  burdens 
lifted,  with  courage  renewed,  this  were  invaluable.  I  have  heard 
slightingly  of  marble  tears,  but  if  any  human  being  ever  wept  warmer 
tears,  or  tears  that  touched  more  deeply  the  sympathy  of  the  be- 
holder than  one  marble  woman  is  weeping  in  the  Luxembourg,  it 
has  not  been  made  known  to  man.  O  Art,  thou  art  divine,  and 
divinely  canst  thou  bless  us  when  portraying  the  love  of  God,  the 
Infinite,  and  the  love  of  man  to  fellow  man  !  But  while  drifting 
naturally  to  the  galleries  when  speaking  of  the  charms  of  that  fair, 
frail  city,  they  are  not  all  there  by  any  means.  Her  churches  are 
worthy  of  high  mention,  her  public  buildings,  her  parks,  her  monu- 
ments, all  claim  admiration.  In  one  word,  everybody  who  has 
anything  to  do  in  the  way  of  improvement  endeavors  not  only  to 
see  how  it  may  be  made  to  serve  a  useful  end,  but  also  how  he 
may  combine  the  beautiful  with  it. 

The  fourteenth  of  July  was  a  great  day.     Everything  yielded  to 
the   festive  idea.     A    review  of  troops   and   a   display  of  fireworks 


A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY.  85 

were  the  main  features  of  a  general  public  character,  but  the 
people,  in  their  own  way,  sought  amusement.  Every  cafe,  and  very 
many  buildings,  were  decorated  with  the  three-barred  flag,  and  many 
also  with  the  stars  and  stripes.  Festoons  were  abundant,  hung  with 
Chinese  lanterns.  Wine  flowed  in  rivers — men,  women,  and 
children  using  it  without  stint.  The  boys  and  girls,  and  children 
just  able  to  toddle,  feasted  on  bread  and  wine  as  if  it  were  with  us 
bread  and  milk.  The  wine  was  Bordeaux  in.  many  instances  under 
my  observation,  a  light  drink,  and  as  harmless  as  any  wine  can  ever 
be.  In  the  early  part  of  the  day,  down  in  the  lower  part  of  the 
town  along  the  Place  Vendome  and  Rue  de  Rivoli,  I  saw,  perhaps, 
a  half  dozen  men  who  evidently  had  been  drinking  to  excess,  per- 
haps of  absinthe,  or  some  heavy  liquor,  quantities  of  which  are 
used  here.  But  after  this  I  saw  no  one  intoxicated  nor  boisterous. 
I  was  in  the  crowd  all  day,  and  at  night  in  so  dense  a  crowd'  that  I 
was  somewhat  nervous  and  I  give  the  facts  simply.  It  is  estimated 
that  not  less  than  one  million  of  people  were  on  the  streets  in  the 
pursuit  of  pleasure  on  this  day.  Every  tramcar  and  omnibus,  and 
every  steamer  on  the  Seine,  was  crowded  to  the  full  limit  of  the  law. 
Nothing  so  notable  as  the  crowd  itself,  and  its  behavior,  came  under 
my  eye.  I  saw  no  fighting ;  there  was  no  pushing  nor  any  rudeness  ; 
but  as  Madam  said  before  I  went  out  so  I  found  it  true,  "  You  will 
find  the  French  people  very  orderly  and  considerate."  In  the  even^ 
ing  the  new  and  useless  iron  tower,  that  is  to  be  one  thousand  feet 
high  and  is  now  four  hundred  and  fifty,  was  utilized  for  the  display 
of  fireworks.  The  Trocadero  was  illuminated  gorgeously,  the 
fountains  playing  under  the  gaslights,  waterfalls  pouring  over  with  gas- 
light shining  through — a  picture  of  oriental  splendor.  The  grounds 
of  the  Trocadero,  from  the  steps  of  the  building  to  the  Seine,  were 
one  dense  mass  of  human  beings,  while  avenue  Kleber  was  studded 
with  carriages.  Yet  in  all  this  moving  mass  of  people,  tired  with 
standing  after  a  long  day  of  festivity,  impatient  at  the  delay  of  the 
exhibition,  not  one  loud  voice,  not  one  angry  word  was  heard.  To 
me  it  was  a  remarkable  fact.  A  real  live  Irishman,  after  picnicing 
in  his  accustomed  way,  would  have  been  heard  from  a  dozen  times 
in  the  same  period.  Another  fact  was  the  absence  of  policemen — at 
least  they  were  not  seen.  Inside  the  gardens  of  the  Trocadero 
they  were  pacing  up  and  down  to  keep  the  crowd  from  attempting 
to  invade  them,  but  none  were  outside.  I  found  no  argument  on 


86  A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 

all  this.  Personally,  I  do  not  like  their  wine-drinking  customs.  I 
do  not  uphold  them ;  I  should  deplore  such  a  condition  of  things 
in  America.  But  so  much  has  been  said  upon  this  subject  that  I 
set  out  to  see  for  myself,  and  I  have  seen,  and  do  testify  that  with 
wine  flowing  on  every  side,  and  consumed  by  old  and  young,  fat 
and  lean,  nervous  and  sanguine,  male  and  female,  weak  and  strong, 
patrician  and  plebian,  the  state  of  things  in  public  at  eleven  o'clock 
at  night  was  as  I  have  stated.  Yet  a  thousand  times  rather  our 
home  sentiment  on  this  subject  than  the  prevailing  custom  here.  It 
seems  to  me  such  a  debasing  practice,  such  a  prostitution  of  the 
nobler  to  the  lower  nature,  that  while  we  cannot  point  to  gutters 
filled  with  drunken  people,  somehow  we  feel  that  it  is  far  below  our 
level.  Somehow  we  are  sure  that  it  must,  in  the  onflow  of  genera- 
tions, make  its  mark  upon  the  health,  the  power,  the  permanence  of 
the  French  republic. 

Of  the  fireworks  themselves,  I  will  only  say  that  they  repaid  all 
the  trouble  we  were  at  to  see  them.  After  they  were  over  the  crowd 
surged  down  the  avenue.  I  sat  in  my  window  and  watched  them 
pass  for  a  long  time,  filling  the  street  loosely  from  wall  to  wall.  I 
am  told  by  others  who  prowled  around  later  (for  some  people  never 
can  get  enough),  that  there  was  dancing  in  every  open  place,  while 
the  Place  de  Concorde  was  ablaze  with  light,  and  merry  dancers 
kept  it  up  until  towards  morning. 

The  French  horn  wheezed  and  droned  all  day  and  far  into  the 
night.  Music  has  a  soul,  and  any  style  of  music  that  arrests  and 
soothes  the  soul  of  the  masses  certainly  interprets  their  inner  expe- 
rience. The  French  horn  can  be  called  nothing  else  than  a  cry 
of  the  soul  in  agony.  First  one  strikes  in  with  a  strain  in  minor 
key,  then  two  or  three  more  catch  it  up  and  all  wail  it  out  together. 
The  bagpipe  of  Scotland  is  to  me  a  most  touching  instrument  when 
played  by  a  skilled  hand,  and  Scotch  ballads  are  often  painful.  At 
Roslyn  an  old  man,  with  a  voice  of  rare  sweetness  and  pathos, 
stood  before  the  inn,  and  accompanying  himself  on  an  accordion, 
sang  Scotch  songs.  The  first  verse  hushed  our  talking,  the  second 
set  us  crying.  We  were  not  feeling  very  happy  at  Edinburgh,  and 
the  old  man  struck  the  right  chords  in  our  hearts  and  soon  did  us  up 
completely.  I  wonder  if  the  French  soul  is  happy.  I  do  not  see 
how  it  can  be.  Its  music  says  that  it  is  not.  How  different  are  our 
American  songs  and  popular  airs.  How  different  those  of  England. 


A    PASTORAL    .!()!   KNEY.  87 

France  is  prosperous.  She  wants  peace,  and  will  do  anything  in 
honor  to  preserve  it.  But  is  she  secure?  The  deep  religious  con- 
victions lying  as  corner-stones  of  our  republic  are  wanting  here  to 
so  great  an  extent  that  the  future  no  man  can  determine. 

FRANCIS  A.  HORTON. 


LETTER  XV. 

STEAMER  EIDER,  NORTH  GERMAN  LLOYD,  ^ 
August  3,  1888.      j 

With  a  few  additional  notes  of  travel  we  will  take  leave  of  those 
kind  friends  who  through  the  columns  of  The  Tribune  have  camped 
and  tramped  with  us  for  several  months  past.  If  they  have  taken 
a  tithe  of  the  pleasure  therein  that  we  have  experienced  in  their 
company,  our  joy  shall  be  full. 

It  was  a  gorgeous  Sabbath  morning  when  we  awoke  in  Lucerne. 
To  one  who  has  stopped  there  for  a  day,  or  for  a  longer  season,  the 
mere  mention  of  the  name  sends  a  thrill  of  pleasure  through  the  soul,  a 
warmth  through  the  body,  and  the  blood  bounding  through  the  veins. 
The  beautiful,  beatuiful  water,  the  walks  upon  its  banks,  shaded  by 
double  and  triple  rows  of  sycamores  topped  in  to  make  them  spread 
and  interlock  their  branches ;  the  life  everywhere  on  land,  on  lake,  in 
skiff,  and  yacht,  and  swift  steamer,  the  glorious  Alps  rising  beyond 
in  long  chains  of  snow- covered  peaks,  cooling  the  air,  yet  not  cool- 
ing it,  sending  into  it  a  delicious  sense  of  freshness  and  vigor,  while 
yet  a  sunshade  is  very  acceptable,  off  there  to  the  south  the  Rhigi, 
with  its  hotel  perched  in  cloudland,  a  picture  all  that  can  never  be 
effaced  from  the  mind  that  has  once  taken  it  fully  in,  one  that  will 
be  a  joy  to  the  soul  so  long  as  memory  holds  her  seat.  Then  the 
bells  !  Those  Swiss  bells — was  anything  ever  sweeter?  We  talk  of 
the  church  bell  as  a  relic  of  barbarism.  Let  us  not  disgrace  those 
ancient  bells  by  suggesting  that  those  which  bang  and  clang  in  mod- 
ern steeples  have  descended  from  them  or  are  in  any  way  related  to 
them.  These  have  a  soul,  and  that  soul  has  a  song,  and  as  they 
roll  it  and  roll  it  out  it  reaches  to  our  soul  and  sings  its  sweetness 
through  all  our  being.  One  could  hear  them  ring  and  sing  for  an 
hour,  and  forget  them  as  they  lift  us  up  into  loftier  realms  of 
thought,  and  soothe  our  cares  and  draw  our  tears  until  we  feel  that 


88  A    PASTORAL   JOURNEY. 

we  have  been  holily  wrought  upon,  if,  indeed,  we  have  not  actually 
worshipped.  If  one  not  in  the  trade  may  venture  a  suggestion,  we 
think  that  by  attempting  to  cater  to  the  idea  of  making  less  noise 
we  have  reduced  the  size  of  our  bells  until  the  music  is  all  out  of 
them  and  there  is  nothing  left  but  a  disagreeable  residum  of  pure 
noise  of  the  order  of  the  Chinese  gong.  Then,  too,  the  metal  may 
have  no  tone  in  it  because  it  is  cheap,  the  attempt  being  to  make  a 
saleable  bell.  The  church  bell  has  a  place,  as  any  one  will  confess 
who  has  heard  the  bells  of  Lucerne,  sending  their  voices  over  the 
waters  to  the  distant  hills  beyond,  yet  so  soothingly  that  the  sick 
man  near  would  be  rested  thereby,  as  a  fevered  child  under  the 
crooning  of  a  nurse.  With  deep  regret  we  turned  our  backs  upon 
this  charming  spot,  and  with  quickened  pulse  shall  we  come  to  the 
day,  should  it  ever  be  ours,  when  we  shall  revisit  it  and  tarry  longer. 
Dashing  along  the  railway  to  Frankfort-on-Main,  we  saw  the 
harvest  in  full  blast.  We  could  not  but  make  a  note  of  the  part 
the  woman  takes  in  all  of  these  hard  manual  labors.  It  filled  our 
soul  with  pity,  trained  as  we  had  been  in  a  different  system.  The 
man,  with  his  funny  little  cradle,  cuts  down  the  grain,  and  the 
woman  stoops  to  earth,  as  though  she  had  no  back  to  ache,  and 
gathers  it  together  into  bundles  and  binds  it.  She  carries  the  bun- 
dles into  heaps.  She  pitches  them  upon  the  load.  She  rakes  down 
the  loaded  wagon,  and  rakes  after  the  wagon,  and  this,  not  in  one 
or  two  instances,  but  everywhere  and  all  the  way.  In  no  country 
in  the  world  does  woman,  not  in  favored  classes,  but  woman  as 
such,  hold  the  place  that  she  does  in  America.  Just  look  over  the 
rail  here  into  the  steerage  and  see  the  women  sitting  about.  Look 
at  those  arms,  bare,  and  brown,  and  brawny ;  look  at  those  hands 
spread  out  of  shape ;  at  those  thick  fingers,  those  broad,  hard, 
finger-nails,  what  evidences  of  toil  in  manual  labor;  how  wearily 
the  body  sinks  together,  the  shoulders  stooping,  the  clasped  hands 
presssed  deeply  into  the  lap;  poor,  tired  mortal,  we  know  what  bur- 
dens you  have  borne,  we  are  happy  to  think  that  every  turn  of  the 
Eider's  screw  is  sending  you  fifty  feet  nearer  to  a  land  where  your 
daughter  or  granddaughter  will  come  into  a  condition  of  which  you 
have  to-day,  as  you  sit  musing  on  that  coil  of  rope,  no  faintest  con- 
ception. In  all  these  European  lands  it  is  the  same.  We  find 
women  carrying  stone  and  mortar,  attending  upon  workmen ;  we 
find  them  doing  menial  work,  dragging  carts,  cleaning  streets,  and 


A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  89 

the  like.  The  difference  is  most  noticeable  in  other  ways.  I  think 
I  mentioned  the  remark  of  our  accomplished  young  English  board- 
ing-house keeper  in  London.  It  will  bear  repeating.  She  said  : 
"What  we  English  people  notice  most  of  all  in  our  American  guests 
is  the  attention  the  married  men  show  to  their  wives,  the  care  they 
take  of  them,  and  the  way  they  wait  upon  them.  With  us  it  is 
quite  the  reverse."  As  a  result  of  our  methods  we  may  produce  a 
race  of  women  not  so  robust,  not  able  to  walk  so  many  miles,  rais- 
ing fewer  children,  with  more  headache  and  backache,  but  take  the 
rank  and  file  of  them  through,  from  the  lowliest  to  the  most  exalted, 
there  is  an  airness,  a  freshness,  a  springing  gait,  an  intelligence  in 
eye  and  word,  and  a  delicacy  and  refinement  that  we  look  for  in 
vain  elsewhere.  We  are  not  prejudiced,  but  simply  stating  observed 
facts  with  balanced  judgment. 

Everybody  speculates  about  German  politics  in  these  days — 
except  ourselves.  But  having  the  hearing  ear  and  the  recording 
pencil  we  may  be  pardoned  a  reflection.  There  is  undoubtedly  a 
large  element  in  Germany  that  sympathizes  with  the  late  Emperor 
Frederick  in  the  belief  that  the  taking  of  Alsace  and  Lorraine  was 
a  mistake;  that  Germany  did  not  need  the  territory  and  that  that 
act  will  certainly  produce  trouble  in  days  to  come.  It  is  stated, 
with  some  show  of  authority,  that  Frederick  contemplated  a  bold 
proposition  in  the  way  of  a  peaceful  restoration.  The  present 
Emperor,  therefore,  recently  in  saying  with  the  heartlessness  of  a 
Napolean  that  he  would  prefer  to  see  his  German  corps  cut  to 
pieces  rather  than  restore  one  piece  of  acquired  territory,  or  words 
to  that  effect,  was  not  beating  a  man  of  straw,  it  was  aimed  at  this 
sentiment  that  is  freely  expressed  in  the  fatherland.  A  most  intel- 
ligent German,  while  glorying  in  that  acquisition  on  the  ground  of 
national  pride,  as  all  do,  admitted  over  the  table  d'hote  in  the  very 
hotel  in  Frankfort  in  one  of  the  upper  rooms  of  which  the  treaty  of 
Frankfort  was  prepared  and  signed,  that  trouble  would  yet  come  of 
it.  On  the  Freach  side  the  immortelles  are  never  wanting  on  the 
statue  representing  Strasburg  in  the  Place  du  Concorde  in  Paris, 
and  always  French  flags  may  be  seen  crossed  upon  it  draped  in 
mourning.  No  one  can  forecast  the  future.  The  French  people, 
rank  and  file,  are  wearied  with  the  Republic,  they  are  ready  for  a 
change. 

The  surprising  success  of  Boulanger  in  the  recent  elections  only 
10 


90  A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY. 

confirms  the  statement  made  to  me  by  an  intelligent  resident  in 
Paris  one  day,  in  the  galleries  of  Versailles,  that  "the  people  were 
tired  of  the  republic ;  they  were  far  more  miserable  and  poorly  gov- 
erned than  under  the  empire."  I  confess  I  was  surprised,  and  took 
the  statement  with  mental  reservations.  But  it  seems  to  be  nearer 
the  truth  after  all.  So  there  are  wheels  within  wheels,  currents  and 
counter-currents,  and  what  the  outcome  may  be  none  can  say. 

Embarking  at  Mainz  we  sailed  down  the  Rhine  to  Cologne.  We 
did  not  find  the  Rhine  so  wonderful,  and  we  did  not  find  all  of 
those  odors  at  Cologne.  The  river  is  beautiful ;  the  city  is  clean 
and  pleasing.  Comparisons  are  not  pleasant.  I  only  venture  to  say 
I  am  not  dissatisfied  that  I  was  born  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson. 
Nature,  antiquity,  and  industry  make  up  the  charms  of  the  river. 
Nature,  in  a  copious  stream,  winding  among  hills  of  respectable 
size  and  height;  antiquity,  in  crowning  these  otherwise  uninteresting, 
hills  with  castles  that  people  the  heights  with  imaginary  men  and 
armies  and  pass  long  reaches  of  history  and  romance  before  the 
mind ;  industry,  that  has  constructed  miles  upon  miles  of  stone  ter- 
races, from  summit  to  water's  edge,  to  make  possible  the  cultivation 
of  the  grape  on  those  steep  sides.  This  is  the  Rhine,  a  river  of 
which  every  German  is  properly  proud,  and  on  which  every  tourist 
may  and  should  spend  a  very  pleasant  day.  The  wines  raised  on 
the  shore  are  for  sale  on  board,  or  are  supposed  to  be.  And  the 
capacity  of  man  and  woman  to  contain  those  sour  drinks  is  simply 
wonderful.  Rudesheimer,  Oppenheimer,  and  many  other  heimers 
follow  each  other  down  all  day  long,  with  no  effect  visible,  save  that 
they  flush  the  ladies  and  blonde  young  men  to  the  roots  of  the  hair. 
When  we  went  on  board  at  Mainz,  one  man  and  two  women  had 
taken  possession  of  one  of  the  many  tables  on  deck,  and  were  drinking 
a  white  wine;  after  finishing  this  they  called  for  some  sandwiches 
and  wine ;  this  done  they  had  a  red  wine,  then  came  dinner,  when 
they  took  a  wine  to  assist  digestion.  We  thought  surely  that  they 
were  done  now,  but  lo  !  on  ascending  to  the  deck  they  met  a  few 
friends,  and  the  group  took  a  new  table,  and  each  of  the  male 
members  ordered  his  favorite  brand  of  wine,  and  finished  as  the 
high  towers  of  the  Cologne  Cathedral  appeared  above  the  plains 
looming  heavenward,  while  all  other  objects  adjacent  to  it  were  still 
below  the  horizon  of  plain  vision.  It  was  the  longest  drink  I  had 
ever  witnessed,  and  they  seemed  to  regret  the  end.v  The  statement 


A   PASTORAL  JOURNEY.  91 

has  been  made  that  only  2,000,000  gallons  of  wine  consumption  for 
California  last  year  was  truly  lamentable  ;  that  Paris  would  con- 
sume it  in  two  days.  May  a  kind  Providence  long  defend  us  against 
such  guzzling,  such  senseless,  sottish,  extravagant  consumption  of 
harmless  wines  as  one  sees  in  Paris  and  on  the  Rhine.  Everything 
has  its  place  ;  we  do  not  deny  it  to  the  mild  wines  of  the  old  world 
where  any  find  their  moderate  use  medicinal,  as  so  many  claim. 
But  if  that  admission  is  in  any  way  likely  to  bring  in  its  train  such 
drinking  for  the  mere  sake  of  killing  time,  or  for  seeing  how  much 
one  can  hold,  or  worse,  from  national  habit,  until  only  the  fact  of 
the  excess  is  apparent  to  a  stranger  visitor,  then  say  I,  perish  every 
vine  in  California,  welcome  blizzards  to  blight,  phylloxera  to  destroy. 
Yes,  perish  the  vines  and  save  the  people.  This  excessive  use  must 
work  great  and  detrimental  changes  in  national  tone,  and  temper, 
and  constitution  in  long  years.  The  first  effect,  we  learn,  is  a  sense 
of  weariness  inducing  sleep.  But  says  my  apologist,  a  young  lady, 
this  is  the  thing  desired ;  we  Americans  work  too  hard,  we  come 
here  to  rest,  and  we  want  to  sleep.  The  next  effect  is  when  the 
brain  is  struggling  up  from  this  stupidity  and  finds  itself  fettered, 
then  comes  irritability,  and  the  French  wine-drinker  is  on  fire  in  a 
moment.  Those  terrible  welts  on  his  horse's  side,  those  blood-ooz- 
ing blows,  may  have  come  straight  from  his  light  wine-cup.  Con- 
tinue this,  day  after  day,  and  year  after  year,  and  a  permanent 
deterioration  of  character  must  ensue.  Spare  America  a  practically 
free  wine  bottle. 

At  last  in  Bremerhafen  our  eyes  fell  upon  the  good  ship  Eider,  in 
which  we  were  to  go  down  upon  the  deep  once  more  for  the  voyage 
home.  The  ladies  thought  she  looked  small  to  be  charged  with 
so  important  a  responsibility,  but  she  was  distant,  and  behind  her 
was  a  background  of  ocean  that  made  her  look  smaller  by  compar- 
ison. We  found  her  an  admirable  craft,  costing  about  $1,000,000; 
her  saloon  and  smoking-room  alone  costing  ^40,000  for  fittings, 
including  paintings,  etc.  The  rooms  are  large,  ventilation  is  good, 
everything  is  clean  and  orderly,  the  officers  are  gentlemen  off  duty, 
and  unapproachable  when  on  duty,  especially  when  the  weather  is 
at  all  thick ;  the  tables  are  supplied  bountifully,  ice  cream,  for  exam- 
ple, being  carried  from  New  York  in  quantity  to  be  served  to  the 
saloon  passengers  every  day  at  dinner,  out  and  return,  and  to  second 
cabin  three  times  a  week  on  outward  and  homeward  voyages.  It  is 


92  A   PASTORAL   JOURNEY. 

packed  in  small  paper  boxes  and  then  put  in  refrigerators,  like 
Washington  hokey-pokey.  The  stewards  of  the  second  cabin  are 
hired  with  reference  to  their  musical  ability  as  well  as  to  their  pro- 
ficiency as  waiters.  They  form  a  band,  and  are  supplied  with 
excellent  instruments,  wind  and  string.  They  play  as  a  band  on 
deck  and  as  an  orchestra  in  the  saloon  while  the  first  cabin  is  at 
dinner.  Their  dinner  programme  consists  of  six.  well  chosen  pieces, 
varying  from  popular  airs  up  to  high  opera.  When  soup  is  ready 
the  music  strikes  up  and  the  waiters  file  in,  the  music  continuing 
through  all  the  courses,  responses  being  made  to  encores  cheerfully. 
The  pleasure  herein  is  very  great,  and  the  profit,  too,  for  this  men- 
tal diversion  to  some  small  extent  counteracts  sea-sickness  and 
enables  a  person  to  remain  at  table  who  otherwise  would  go  climb- 
ing up  the  rubber  stairs  to  the  deck.  Good  speed  is  attained  every 
day,  not  far  from  four  hundred  miles  either  way.  Take  it  for  all  in 
all,  it  is  one  of  the  pleasantest  lines  on  the  ocean.  But  my  creed 
for  ocean  travel  has  only  one  article,  viz.  :  we  believe  in  the  swiftest 
ships  consistent  with  safety  and  the  shortest  distance  between  get- 
ting on  and  off. 

Bishop  Doane,  of  Albany,  was  one  of  our  number,  and  a  genial 
companion,  as  well  as  a  most  learned  chufthman.  He  was  return- 
ing from  the  Lambeth  Convocation,  and  complained  of  being 
preached  almost  to  death.  He  gave  us  a  good  discourse  on  the 
lesson  for  the  second  Sabbath  of  our  voyage. 

We  had  a  little  sensation  which  might  have  filled  a  few  columns 
of  a  morning  daily  were  it  not  that  a  miss  is  as  good  as  a  mile.  The 
horrible  fog  had  closed  us  in  for  a  couple  of  days,  during  which  the 
depressing  signal  had  been  blowing  at  regular  intervals,  making  us 
dread  to  go  down  below,  and  afraid  to  fall  asleep.  But  we  did  fall 
off,  until  we  were  awakened  by  the  stillness.  One  becomes  so  accus- 
tomed to  the  regular  beating  of  the  great  engine's  pulse  that  when 
it  ceased  it  awakened  us.  We  listened  for  the  screw  and  could  not 
hear  it,  yet  felt  a  slight  tremor,  showing  that  we  were  moving 
enough  to  keep  steerage  way.  Then  came  an  answer  to  our  fog 
horn  out  of  the  white  wet  blanket  uround  us — call  and  answer,  call 
and  answer — then  suddenly  as  though  the  ship  were  leaping  back 
from  a  yawning  chasm  came  an  awful  shaking.  It  was  the  screw 
reversing  at  full  speed — we  were  backing  away  from  something. 
Out  of  berth  we  flew,  and  with  head  out  of  porthole  peered  into  the 


A    PASTORAL   JOURNEY.  93 

fog.  As  good  luck  would  have  it,  we  were  on  the  port  side,  and 
were  just  in  time  to  see  a  three-masted  schooner  with  sails  set  fall- 
ing across  our  bow  from  the  starboard  side.  In  another  instant  the 
fog  closed  her  in,  and  we  could  hear  her  horn  for  a  little  time  only. 
It  was  a  close  call  for  one  or  the  other  of  us.  Had  we  struck  her 
there  would  have  been  two  of  her  in  a  trice  ;  had  she  struck  us,  we, 
personally,  might  have  got  out  of  our  room  alive,  as  we  were  on  the 
port  side,  but  I  have  no  idea  that  this  letter  would  ever  have  been 
written.  The  chances  of  being  saved,  in  such  an  event,  are  so 
slim  that  it  is  a  wonder  any  one  ever  lives  to  tell  the  tale.  But  we 
came  safely  through,  and  presume  that  in  due  course  of  years  we 
may  brave  the  fogs  again. 

At  last  came  the  pilot,  full  five  hundred  miles  out  at  sea  and  with 
him  papers  from  home  several  days  old,  but  still  new  to  us.  Then 
in  due  course  the  lights  along  the  shore  began  to  appear  and  finally 
the  warm  breath  of  an  American  August  and  the  genial  welcome  of 
the  industrious  mosquito.  Our  hearts  arose  with  the  rising  shore 
lines  and  the  mountain  steeples,  and  our  palates  began  to  clamor 
for  green  corn,  and  butter  with  salt  in  it. 

After  all,  how  much  of  life  is  made  up  of  little  things,  and  how 
little  a  thing  life  is  itself.  Yet  happiness  is  in  attention  to  little 
things,  and  if,  in  noting  with  some  detail  the  little  haps  and  mis- 
haps of  our  most  enjoyable  wandering,  we  have  prepared  any  intend- 
ing tourist  the  better  for  his  outing,  we  shall  feel  as  amply  rewarded 
as  though  we  had  brought  great  things  to  those  who  through  care- 
fully written  books  of  travel  have  had  a  surfeit  of  them  already. 

FRANCIS  A.  HORTON. 
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